:  jraujcrtt's  J^cfcels. 


Jlfr.  Fawcett  is  a  novelist  ivho  does  a  service  that  greatly  needs  to  be  done, 

—  a  novelist  who  writes  of  the  life  ivith  which  he  is  closely  acquainted,  and 
ti<hn  manfully  emphasizes  his  rt-sfi'ct  fur  his  native  land,  and  his  contempt 
fur  the  weakness  and  affectation  of  those  "who  are  ashamed  of  their  country. 

—  New  York  Evening  Post. 

A    GENTLE  MAX  OF  LEISURE. 

Ninth  Edition.     "  Little  Classic  "  style.     iSmo,  $  i.oo. 

Tnke  it  as  a  whob,  we  know  no  English  novel  of  the  last  few  years  fit  to  be 
compared  with  it  in  its  own  line  for  simplicity,  truth,  and  rational  interest.  — 
London  Times. 

It  is  the  mo^t  truly  American  novel  !hat  has  been  given  to  the  world  in  some 
time,  for  the  reason  that  it  teaches  Americans  —  or,  ;it  ali  events,  should  teach 
them  —  what  puny  and  puerile  being>  they  become  when  lh--y  attempl  tn  decry 
their  own  country  and  ape  the  idiosyncrasies  of  another.  —  A'eiv  }  "ork  Express. 


An  amazingly  clever  book,  the  story  well  managed  in  the  tellii.g,  the  dialogue 
iright  and  sparkling,  and  thu  humor  unforced  and  genuine.  —  Boston  Tran- 
iCrifit. 

It  is  a  most  charming  story  of  American  life  and  character,  with  a  rare  dash 
of  humor  in  it,  and  a  good  deal  of  vigorous  satire.  — Quebec  Chronicle. 


A   HOPELESS  CASE. 

Fourth  Edition.     "  Little  Classic"  style.     iSmo,  $1.25. 

"  A  Hopeless  Case  "  contains  much  that  jroes  to  make  up  a  novel  of  the  best 
order —  wit,  sarcasm,  pathos,  and  dramatic  power —  with  its  sentences  clearly 
wrought  out  and  daintily  finished.  It  is  a  book  which  ought  to  have  a  great 
success.  —  Cincinnati  Commercial. 

"  A  Hopeless  Case  "  will,  we  are  sure,  meet  with  a  very  enthusiastic  recep 
tion  from  a'l  who  can  appreciate  fiction  of  a  high  order.  The  picture  of  New 
York  society,  as  revealed  in  its  pages,  is  remarkably  graphic  and  true  to  life. 
.  .  .  A  thoroughly  delightful  novel  —  keen,  witty,  and  eminently  American.  It 
will  give  the  author  a  high  rank  as  a  writer  of  fiction.  —  Boston  Trareller. 

As  a  sprightly  and  interesting  comedy  this  book  \\iil  find  hosts  of  interested 
readers.  It  has  its  lessons  of  value  in  the  striking  contrasts  it  furnishes  of  the 
different  styles  of  life  found  in  our  great  cities.  —New  England  Journal  of 
Education. 

Its  brilliant  and  faithful  pictures  of  New  York  society  and  its  charming  he 
roine  can  hardly  fail  to  make  it  very  popular.  — Salem  Gazette. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 
i2mo,  cloth,  $1.50. 

*»*  For  safe  by  Booksellers.     Sent,  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price 
by  the  J'uo/ti/iers, 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO.,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN 


A  Novel 


BY 


EDGAR   FAWCETT 

AUTHOR   OF   "A   GENTLEMAN   OF   LEISURE,"   "A   HOPELESS 
CASE,"   BTC. 


BOSTON 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
New  York:    11    East  Seventeenth   Street 

(3T&E  fttorrisi&e  Press,  Cambri&0e 

1884 


Copyright,  1883, 
BT  EDGAK  FAWCETT. 

Ail  rights  reserved. 


The  Rii-ersiile  Presi,  Cambridge: 
Eiectrotyped  and  Printed  by  U.  0.  Iloughton  &  Co. 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 


I. 

IF  any  spot  on  the  globe  can  be  found  where  even 
Spring  lias  lost  the  sweet  trick  of  making  herself 
charming,  a  cynic  in  search  of  an  opportunity  for 
some  such  morose  discovery  might  thank  his  baleful 
stars  were  chance  to  drift  him  upon  Greenpoiut. 
Whoever  named  the  place  in  past  days  must  have 
done  so  with  a  double  satire  ;  for  Green  point  is  not  a 
point,  nor  is  it  ever  green.  Years  ago  it  began  by 
being  the  sluggish  suburb  of  a  thriftier  and  smarter 
suburb,  Brooklyn.  By  degrees  the  latter  broad 
ened  into  a  huge  city,  and  soon  its  neighbor  village 
stretched  out  to  it  arms  of  straggling  huts  and 
swampy  river-line,  in  doleful  welcome.  To-day  the 
affiliation  is  complete.  Man  has  said  let  it  all  be 
Brooklyn,  and  it  is  all  Brooklyn.  But  the  sovereign 
dreariness  of  Green  point,  like  an  unpropitiated  god, 
still  remains.  Its  melancholy,  its  ugliness,  its  torpor, 
its  neglect,  all  preserve  an  unimpaired  novelty.  It 
is  very  near  New  York,  and  yet  in  atmosphere,  sug 
gestion,  vitality,  it  is  leagues  away.  Our  noble  city, 
with  its  magnificent  maritime  approaches,  its  mast- 
thronged  docks,  its  lordly  encircling  rivers,  its  maj 
esty  of  traffic,  its  gallant  avenues  of  edifices,  its  loud 
i 

2041822 


2  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

assertion  of  life,  and  its  fine  promise  of  riper  culture, 
fades  into  a  dim  memory  when  you  have  touched, 
after  only  a  brief  voyage,  upon  this  forlorn  opposite 
shore. 

No  Charon  rows  you  across,  though  your  short  trip 
has  too  often  the  most  funereal  associations.  You 
take  passage  in  a  squat  little  steamboat  at  either  of 
two  eastern  ferries,  and  are  lucky  if  a  hearse  with  its 
satellite  coaches  should  fail  to  embark  in  your  com 
pany  ;  for,  curiously,  the  one  enlivening  fact  associ- 
able  with  Greenpoint  is  its  close  nearness  to  a  famed 
Roman  Catholic  cemetery.  It  is  doubtful  if  the  un 
kempt  child  wading  in  the  muddy  gutter  ever  turns 
his  frowzy  head  when  these  dismal  retinues  stream 
past  him.  They  are  always  streaming  past  him ; 
they  are  as  much  a  part  of  this  lazy  environ  as  the 
big,  ghostly  geese  that  saunter  across  its  ill-tended 
cobblestones,  the  dirty  goats  that  nibble  at  the  pla 
cards  on  its  many  dingy  fences,  or  the  dull-faced  Ger 
mans  that  plod  its  semi-paven  streets.  Death,  that 
is  always  so  bitter  a  commonplace,  has  here  become 
a  glaring  triteness.  Watched,  along  the  main  thor 
oughfare,  from  porches  of  liquor-shops  and  windows 
of  tenement-houses,  death  has  perhaps  gained  a  som 
bre  popularity  with  not  a  few  shabby  gazers.  It 
rides  in  state,  at  a  dignified  pace  ;  it  has  followers, 
too,  riding  deferentially  behind  it.  Sometimes  it  has 
martial  music,  and  the  pomp  of  military  escort.  Life 
seldom  has  any  of  this,  in  Greenpoint.  It  cannot 
ride,  or  rarely.  It  must  walk,  and  strain  to  keep  its 
strength  even  for  that.  One  part  of  it  drudges  with 
the  needle,  fumes  over  the  smoky  stove,  sighs  at  the 
unappeasable  baby  ;  another  part  takes  by  dawn  the 
little  dwarfish  ferry-boat,  and  lues  to  the  great  me- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  3 

tropolis  across  the  river,  returning  jaded  from  labor 
by  nightfall.  No  wonder,  here,  if  death  should  s>  em 
to  possess  not  merely  a  mournful  importance  but  a 
gloomy  advantage  as  well,  or  if  for  these  toilful 
townsfolk  philosophy  had  reversed  itself,  and  instead 
of  the  paths  of  glory  leading  to  the  grave,  it  should 
look  as  if  the  grave  were  forever  leading  to  some  sort 
of  peculiar  and  comfortable  glory. 

But  Greenpoint,  like  a  hardened  conscience,  still 
has  her  repentant  surprises.  She  is  not  quite  a  thing 
of  sluth  and  penury.  True,  the  broad  street  that 
leads  from  steamboat  to  cemetery  is  lined  with 
squalid  homes,  and  the  mourners  who  are  so  inces 
santly  borne  along  to  Calvary  must  see  little  else 
than  beer-sellers  standing  slippered  and  coatless  ber 
side  their  doorways,  or  thin,  pinched  women  haggling 
with  the  venders  of  sickly  groceries.  But  elsewhere 
one  may  find  by-streets  lined  with  low  wooden  dwell 
ings  that  hint  of  neatness  and  suggest  a  better  grade 
of  living.  A  yellowish  drab  prevails  as  the  hue  of 
these  houses ;  they  seem  all  to  partake  of  one  period, 
like  certain  homogeneous  fossils.  But  they  do  not 
breathe  of  antiquity  ;  they  are  fanciful  with  trellised 
piazzas  and  other  modern  embellishments  of  carpen 
try  ;  sometimes  they  possess  miniature  Corinthian 
pillars,  faded  by  the  trickle  of  rain  between  their 
tawny  flutings,  as  if  stirred  with  the  dumb  desire  to 
be  white  and  .classic.  Scant  gardens  front  them, 
edged  with  a  few  yards  of  ornamental  fence.  Their 
high  basement  windows  stare  at  you  from  a  founda 
tion  of  brick.  They  are  very  prosaic,  chiefly  from 
their  lame  effort  to  be  picturesque;  and  when  you 
look  down  toward  the  river,  expecting  to  feel  re 
freshed  by  its  gleam,  you  are  disheartened  at  the 


4  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

way  in  which  lumber-yards  and  sloop-wharves  have 
quite  shut  any  glimpse  of  it  from  your  eyes. 

In  one  of  these  two-storied  wooden  houses,  not 
many  years  ago,  dwelt  a  family  of  three  people,  — a 
Mr.  Francis  Twining,  his  wife,  and  their  only  child, 
a  girl,  named  Claire.  Mr.  Twining  was  an  English 
man  by  birth  ;  many  years  had  passed  since  he  first 
landed  on  these  shores.  He  had  come  here  nearly 
penniless,  but  with  proud  hopes.  He  was  then  only 
three -and -twenty.  He  had  sprung  from  a  good 
country  family,  had  been  fitted  at  Eton  for  Oxford, 
and  had  seen  one  year  at  the  famed  University. 
Then  sharp  financial  disaster  had  overtaken  his  fa 
ther,  whose  death  soon  followed.  Francis  was  a 
younger  son,  but  even  to  the  heir  had  fallen  a  shat 
tered  patrimony,  and  to  himself  merely  a  slender 
legacy.  With  this,  confident  and  undaunted  as 
though  it  were  the  purse  of  Fortunio,  Francis  had 
taken  voyage  for  New  York.  At  first  he  had  shown 
a  really  splendid  energy.  Slim  of  figure,  with  a  pale, 
womanish  face  lit  by  large,  soft  blue  eyes,  he  gave 
slight  physical  sign  of  force  or  even  will.  But 
though  possessed  of  both,  he  proved  one  of  those  ill- 
fated  beings  whom  failure  never  tires  of  rebuffing. 
His  mental  ability  was  unquestioned;  he  shrank  with 
sensitive  disgust  from  all  vice  ;  he  had  plenty  of  ambi 
tion,  and  the  instinct  of  solid  industry.  Yet,  as  years 
passed  on,  both  secured  him  but  meagre  recompense 
for  struggle.  He  had  begun  his  career  with  a  clerk 
ship  ;  now,  at  fifty-three,  he  was  a  clerk  still.  All  his 
hope  had  fled  ;  he  had  undergone  bitter  heart-burn 
ings;  he  had  striven  to  solve  the  problem  of  his  own 
defeat.  Meanwhile  its  explanation  was  not  difficult. 
He  had  a  boyish  trust  in  his  fellow-creatures  that  no 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  5 

amount  of  stern  experience  seemed  to  weaken.  Chi 
canery  had  made  him  its  sport.  Five  separate  times 
he  had  been  swindled  mercilessly  by  men  in  whom 
he  had  reposed  implicit  faith.  There  had  lain  his 
rock  of  ruin :  he  was  always  reposing  implicit  faith 
in  everybody.  His  life  had  been  one  long  pathos 
of  over-credulity.  He  could  think,  reason,  reflect, 
analyze,  but  he  was  incapable  of  doubting.  A  fool 
could  have  deceived  him,  and  naturally,  on  repeated 
occasions,  knaves  had  not  found  it  difficult.  At  fifty- 
three  his  last  hard-earned  savings  had  been  wormed 
from  him  by  the  last  plausible  scamp.  And  now  he 
had  accepted  himself  as  the  favorite  of  misfortune; 
over  the  glow  of  his  spirit  disappointment  had  cast 
its  dulling  spell,  like  the  deep  film  of  ash  that  sheathes 
a  spent  ember.  He  had  now  one  aim  —  to  keep  his 
wife  and  child  from  indigence  while  he  lived,  and  one 
despair  —  that  he  could  not  keep  them  from  indi 
gence  after  he  was  dead.  But  his  really  lovely 
optimism  still  remained.  He  had  been  essentially 
amiable  and  complaisant  in  all  intercourse  witli  his 
kind,  and  this  quality  had  not  lost  a  ray  of  its  fine 
former  lustre.  With  ample  excuse  for  the  worst  cynic 
feeling,  he  continued  a  gentle  yet  unconscious  philan 
thropist.  There  was  something  piteously  sweet  in 
the  obstinacy  with  which  he  still  saw  only  the  bright 
side  of  humanity.  His  delicate  person  had  grown 
more  slim ;  his  rusty  clothes  hung  about  him  with  a 
mournful  looseness;  his  oval  face,  worn  by  worriment, 
had  taken  keener  lines;  but  his  large  blue  eyes  still 
kept  their  liquid  sparkle,  and  kindled  in  prompt  uni 
son  with  his  alert  smile.  The  flaxen  growth  that 
had  always  fringed  his  lips  and  chin  with  cloudy 
lightness,  had  now  become  of  a  frosty  gray.  Seen 


6  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

passingly,  no  one  would  have  called  him,  as  the  cur 
rent  phrase  goes,  a  gentleman.  His  wearied  mien  for 
bade  the  suggestion  of  leisure,  while  his  broadcloth 
spoke  of  long  wear  and  speedy  purchase.  But  a  close 
gaze  might  have  caught  the  unperished  refinement 
that  still  clung  to  him  with  sad  persistence,  and  was 
evident  in  such  minor  effects  of  personal  detail  as 
a  glimpse  of  cleanly  linen  about  throat  and  wrist,  a 
cheap  yet  careful  lustre  of  the  often  jaded  boot,  a 
culture  and  purity  of  the  hand,  or  even  a  choice 
nicety  of  the  finger-nail. 

He  had  married  after  reaching  these  shores,  and 
his  marriage  had  proved  another  instance  of  mis 
placed  confidence.  His  wife  had  been  handsome 
when  a  young  woman,  and  she  had  become  Mrs. 
Twining  at  about  the  age  of  five-and-twenty.  She 
was  personally  quite  the  opposite  of  her  bridegroom ; 
she  was  an  inch  taller  than  he,  and  had  an  aquiline 
face,  splendid  with  a  pair  of  very  black  eyes  that  she 
had  rolled  and  flashed  at  the  other  sex  since  early 
girlhood.  She  had  rolled  and  flashed  them  at  her 
present  husband,  and  so  conquered  him.  She  was  a 
good  inch  taller  than  he,  and  lapse  of  time  had  not 
diminished  the  difference  since  their  union.  She  had 
been  extremely  vulgar  as  Miss  Jane  Wray,  when 
Twining  had  married  her,  and  she  was  extremely  vul 
gar  still.  She  had  first  met  him  in  a  boarding-house 
in  East  Broadway,  where  Twining  had  secured  a  room 
on  his  arrival  from  England.  At  this  period  East 
Broadway  wore  only  a  waning  grace  of  gentility  ; 
some  few  conservative  nabobs  still  lingered  there,  ob 
stinately  defying  plebeian  inroads.  Its  roomy  brick 
mansions,  with  their  arched,  antique  doorways  de 
void  of  any  vestibule;  their  prim-railed  stuopd  that 


AN  AMBITOUS   WOMAN.  7 

guessed  not  of  ornate  balusters ;  and  their  many- 
paned,  thin-sashed  windows  where  plate-glass  had 
never  glittered,  were  already  invaded  by  inmates 
whose  Teuton  names  and  convex  noses  prophesied 
the  social  decline  that  must  soon  grasp  this  once  se 
lect  purlieu.  Jane  Wray  was  neither  German  nor 
Hebrew;  she  was  American  in  the  least  pleasant 
sense  of  that  word,  both  as  regarded  parentage  and 
breeding.  She  was  an  orphan,  and  the  recipient 
of  surly  charity  from  un prosperous  relatives.  She 
wanted  very  greatly  to  marry,  and  Twining  had 
seemed  to  her  a  golden  chance.  There  was  much 
about  her  from  which  he  shrank  ;  but  she  contrived 
to  rouse  his  pity,  and  then  to  lure  from  him  a  promise 
which  he  would  have  despised  himself  not  to  keep. 

The  succeeding  years  had  brought  bitter  mutual 
disappointments.  Mrs.  Twining  hud  believed  firmly 
in  her  husband's  powers  to  sound  the  horn  of  luck 
and  slay  the  giant  of  adversity.  But  he  had  done 
neither,  and  it  now  looked  as  if  his  bones  were  one 
day  to  bleach  along  the  roadway  to  success.  She 
became  an  austere  grumbler,  forever  pricking  her 
sweet-tempered  lord  with  a  tireless  little  bodkin  of  re 
proach.  Her  vulgarities  had  sharpened  ;  her  wit,  al 
ways  cruel  and  acute,  had  tipped  itself  with  a  hai'sher 
venom  and  fledged  itself  with  a  swifter  feather ;  her 
bright,  coarse  beauty  had  dimmed  and  soured  ;  she 
was  at  present  a  gaunt,  elderly  female,  with  square 
shoulders  and  hard,  dark  eyes,  who  flung  sarcasms 
broadcast  with  a  baleful  liberality,  and  seemed  for 
ever  standing  toward  her  own  destiny  in  the  attitude 
of  a  person  who  has  some  large  unsettled  claim  against 
a  nefarious  government. 

Claire  Twining,  the  one  child  who  had  been  born 


8  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

of  tins  ill-assorted  marriage,  was  now  nineteen  years 
old.  She  bore  a  striking  likeness  to  her  father  ;  she 
possessed  his  blue  eyes,  a  trifle  darker  in  shade,  his 
broad  white  forehead,  his  sloping  delicacy  of  visage, 
and  his  erect  though  slender  frame.  From  him,  too, 
had  come  the  sunny  quality  of  her  smile,  the  gold 
tints  in  her  chestnut  hair,  the  fine  symmetry  of  hands 
and  feet.  Rather  from  association  than  heredity  she 
had  caught  his  kindly  warmth  of  manner  ;  but  in 
Claire  the  cordial  impulse  was  far  less  spontaneous ; 
she  had  her  black  list  of  dislikes,  and  she  took  peo 
ple  on  trust  with  wary  prudence.  Here  spoke  her 
mother's  share  in  tiie  girl's  being,  as  it  spoke  also 
in  a  certain  distinct  chiseling  of  every  feature,  that 
suggested  a  softened  memento  of  Miss  Jane  Wray's 
girlish  countenance,  though  Claire's  coloring  no  more 
resembled  her  mother's  of  past  time  than  wild-rose  is 
like  peony,  or  pastel  like  chromo.  But  there  was 
one  more  maternal  imprint  set  deep  within  this  girl's 
nature,  not  to  be  thinned  or  marred  by  any  stress  of 
events,  and  productive  of  a  trait  whose  development 
for  good  or  ill  is  the  chief  cause  that  her  life  has  here 
been  chronicled.  The  birthright  was  a  perilous  one  ; 
it  was  a  heritage  of  discontent ;  its  tendency  was  per 
petual  longings  for  better  environment,  for  ampler 
share  in  the  world's  good  gifts,  for  higher  place  in  its 
esteem  and  stronger  claim  to  its  heed.  But  what  in 
her  mother  had  been  ambition  almost  as  crudely 
eager  as  a  boorish  elbow-thrust,  was  in  Claire  more 
decorous  and  interesting,  like  the  push  of  a  fragile 
yet  determined  hand  through  a  sullen  crowd.  In 
both  cases  the  dissatisfaction  was  something  that  is 
peculiar  to  the  woman  of  our  land  and  time  —  a  de 
sire  not  to  try  and  adorn  the  sphere  in  which  she  is 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  9 

born,  but  to  try  and  reach  a  new  sphere  held  as  more 
suited  for  her  own  adornment.  Yet  Claire's  restless 
yearning  lacked  the  homely  grossness  of  her  moth 
er's  ;  it  reflected  a  finer  flash  ;  it  was  not  all  cut  from 
one  piece ;  it  had  its  subtlety,  its  enthusiasm,  even 
its  justification.  It  was  not  a  mere  stubborn  hunger 
for  advancement ;  it  was  a  wish  to  gain  advancement 
by  the  passport  of  proper  worthiness.  She  did  not 
want  the  air  to  lift  her  away  from  hated  surround 
ings,  but  she  wanted  wings  that  would  turn  the  air 
her  willing  ally.  It  was  what  her  father  had  made 
her  that  touched  what  her  mother  had  made  her  with 
a  truly  poetic  tenderness.  By  only  a  little  prouder 
curve  of  the  neck  and  a  little  happier  fullness  of  the 
plume,  we  part  the  statuesque  swan  from  consider 
ably  more  commonplace  kindred.  Something  like 
this  delightful  benison  of  difference  had  fallen  upon 
Claire. 


II. 


CIECUMSTANCE,  too,  had  fed  the  potency  of  this 
difference.  Claire  had  not  been  reared  like  her 
mother.  When  she  was  nine  years  old  her  parents 
were  living  in  a  tiny  brick  house  near  the  East  River, 
among  New  York  suburbs.  But  Claire  had  been 
sent  to  a  small  school  near  by,  kept  by  a  dim,  worn 
lady,  with  an  opulent  past  and  a  most  precarious 
present.  She  had  studied  for  three  years  under  this 
lady's  capable  care,  and  had  lost  nothing  by  the  op 
portunity.  Her  swift,  apt  mind  had  delighted  her  in 
structress,  whose  name  was  Mrs.  Carmichael.  Claire 
was  remarkably  receptive ;  she  had  acquired  without 
seeming  effort.  Mrs.  Carmichael  was  one  of  the 
many  ladies  who  attempt  the  education  of  youth 
without  either  system  or  equipment  for  so  serious  a 
task.  Pier  slight  body,  doubtless  attenuated  by  re 
curring  memories  of  a  cherished  past,  would  some 
times  invisibly  quake  before  Claire's  precocious  ques 
tionings.  She  knew  all  that  she  knew  superficially, 
and  she  soon  became  fearful  lest  Claire  should  pierce, 
by  a  sort  of  adroit  ignorance,  her  veneer  of  academic 
sham.  She  had  a  narrow  little  peaked  face,  of  a  pre 
vailing  pink  hue,  as  though  it  were  being  always 
bathed  in  some  kind  of  sunset  light,  like  the  rosy 
afterglow  of  her  own  perished  respectability.  Her 
nervous,  alert  head  was  set  on  a  pair  of  sloping  shoul- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  11 

ders,  and  she  wore  its  sparse  tresses  shaped  into  rou 
lades  and  bandeaus  which  had  an  amateurish  look, 
and  seemed  to  imitate  the  deft  handiwork  of  some 
long-departed  tirewoman.  She  carried  her  small 
frame  with  erect  importance.  She  was  always  refer 
ring  to  vanished  friendships  with  this  or  that  notabil 
ity,  but  time  and  place  were  so  ignored  in  these  volun 
teered  reminiscences  as  to  make  her  allusions  acquire 
a  tender  mythic  grandeur.  Claire  had  watched  well 
her  teacher's  real  and  native  elegance,  and  she  had 
set  this  down  as  a  solid  fact.  Perhaps  the  child  had 
probed  her  many  harmless  falsities  with  equal  skill. 
As  for  Mrs.  Carmichael,  she  would  sometimes  pat 
her  pupil  on  the  cheek  and  praise  her  in  no  weak 
terms.  "  I  wish  that  I  had  only  known  you  a  long 
time  ago,  my  little  lady,"  she  would  say,  in  her 
serene  treble  voice.  "  I  would  have  brought  you  up 
as  my  own  dear  child,  for  I  never  had  a  child  of 
my  own.  I  would  have  given  you  a  place  in  the 
world  to  be  proud  of,  and  have  watched  with  inter 
est  the  growth  of  your  fine  mental  abilities,  sur 
rounded  by  those  poor  lost  friends  of  mine  who 
would  have  delighted  in  so  clever  a  girl  as  you  are." 

"  When  you  speak  of  your  friends  as  lost,  Mrs. 
Carmichael,"  Claire  had  once  replied,  "  do  you  mean 
that  they  are  all  dead  now  ?  " 

At  this  question  the  lady  slowly  shook  her  head, 
with  just  enough  emphasis  not  to  imperil  the  modish 
architecture  of  her  locks. 

"  Some  of  them  are  dead,  my  dear,"  she  mur 
mured,  with  the  least  droop  of  each  pink  eyelid,  "  but 
the  rest  are  much  too  grand  for  me  at  present.  They 
have  quite  forgotten  me."  Here  Mrs.  Carmichael 
gave  a  quick,  fluttered  cough,  and  then  put  the  tips 


12  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

of  her  close-pressed  fingers  to  the  edges  of  her  close- 
pressed  lips. 

Claire  privately  thought  them  very  churlish  friends 
to  have  forgotten  anybody  so  high-bred  and  winsome 
as  Mrs.  Carmichael.  And  she  publicly  expressed 
this  thought  at  supper  the  same  evening,  while  she 
sat  with  her  parents  in  a  small  lower  room  opening 
directly  off  the  kitchen.  A  weary  maid,  whose  face 
flamed  from  the  meal  she  had  just  cooked,  was  pa 
tiently  serving  it.  Mrs.  Twining,  who  had  lent  no 
light  hand  toward  the  Monday's  washing,  was  in  the 
act  of  distributing  a  somewhat  meagre  beefsteak, 
which  fate  and  an  incompetent  range  had  conspired 
to  cover  on  both  sides  with  a  layer  of  thick,  sooty 
black.  Mr.  Twining  was  waiting  to  get  a  piece  of 
the  beefsteak  ;  he  did  not  yet  know  of  its  disastrous 
condition,  for  a  large  set  of  pewter  casters  reared  its 
uncouth  pyramid  between  himself  and  the  maltreated 
viand  ;  but  although  such  calamities  of  cookery  were 
not  rare  to  his  board,  he  was  putting  confidence,  as 
usual,  in  the  favors  of  fortune,  and  preparing  himself 
blandly  for  a  fresh  little  stroke  of  chagrin. 

Outside  it  was  midwinter  dusk,  and  a  bleak  wind 
was  blowing  from  the  ice-choked  river,  pale  and  dull 
under  the  sharp  stars.  One-Hundred-and-Twelfth 
Street  was  in  those  years  a  much  wilder  spot  than 
now  ;  its  buildings,  like  its  flag-stones,  were  capri 
cious  incidents  ;  its  boon  of  the  elevated  railroad  was 
yet  undreamed  of  by  capitalists  ;  you  rode  to  it  in 
languid  horse-cars  from  the  remote  centres  of  com 
merce,  upward  past  parapets  of  virgin  rock  where 
perched  the  hut  of  the  squatter,  or  wastes  of  house 
less  highway  where  even  the  aspiring  tavern  had  not 
dared  to  pioneer.  Mr.  Twining  had  just  ridden 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  13 

hither  by  this  laggard  means,  and  he  was  tired  and 
hungry  ;  he  wanted  his  supper,  a  little  valued  chat 
with  his  beloved  Claire,  and  a  caress  or  two  from  the 
child  as  well.  After  these  he  wanted  a  few  hours  of 
rest  before  to-morrow  re-dawned,  with  its  humdrum 
austerities.  One  other  thing  he  desired,  and  this  was 
a  blessing  more  often  desired  than  attained.  He  had 
the  wish  for  a  peaceful  domestic  interval,  as  regarded 
his  wife's  deportment,  between  home-coming  and  de 
parture. 

But  to-night  it  had  been  otherwise  decreed.  Mrs. 
Twining's  faint  spark  of  innate  warmth  was  never 
roused  by  the  contact  of  suds.  Monday  was  her  day 
of  wrath ;  you  might  almost  have  fancied  that  she 
had  used  a  bit  of  her  superfluous  soap  in  vainly  try 
ing  to  rub  the  rust  from  her  already  tarnished  hopes. 

The  small  room  where  the  trio  sat  was  void  of  any 
real  cheer.  A  pygmy  stove,  at  one  side  of  it,  stood 
fuel-choked  and  nearly  florid  in  hue.  From  this  a 
strong  volume  of  heat  engulfed  Mrs.  Twining  in  its 
oppressive  spell,  but  lost  vigor  before  it  reached  her 
husband  or  Claire,  and  left  the  corners  of  the  apart 
ment  so  frigid  that  a  gaunt  sofa,  oif  where  the  light 
of  the  big  oil -lamp  could  only  vaguely  touch  it, 
took  upon  its  slippery  hair-cloth  surface  the  easy 
semblance  of  ice.  Two  windows,  not  fashioned  to 
thwart  the  unwonted  bitterness  of  the  weather,  were 
draped  with  nothing  more  resistant  than  a  pair  of 
canvas  shades,  gorgeously  pictorial  in  the  full  light 
of  day,  when  seen  by  the  passer  who  seldom  passed. 
These  shades  were  of  similar  designs  ;  in  justice  to 
Mrs.  Twining  it  must  be  told  that  they  had  been 
rented  with  the  house.  On  each  a  plumed  gentle- 
mail  in  a  gondola,  held  fond  converse  with  a  dishev- 


14  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

eled  lady  in  a  balcony.  The  conception  was  no  less 
Venetian  in  meaning  than  vicious  in  execution  ;  but 
to-night,  for  any  observant  wayfarer,  such  present 
ments  of  sunny  Italy,  while  viewed  between  blotches 
of  wan  frost  that  crusted  the  intervening  panes,  must 
have  appeared  doubly  counterfeit.  Still,  the  chief 
discomfort  of  the  chamber,  just  at  present,  was  a 
layer  of  brooding  cold  that  lay  along  its  floor,  dog 
gedly  inexterminable,  and  the  sole  approach  to  regu 
larity  of  temperature  that  its  four  walls  contained. 

It  had  made  Claire  gather  up  her  feet  toward  the 
top  rung  of  her  chair,  and  shiver  once  or  twice,  but 
it  had  not  chilled  the  pretty  gayety  of  her  childish 
talk,  all  of  which  had  thus  far  been  addressed  to  her 
father. 

"  And  so  you  like  Mrs.  Carmichael,  my  dear  ? " 
Twining  had  said,  in  his  smooth,  cheerful  voice. 
"Well,  I  am  glad  of  that." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  like  her,"  replied  Claire,  with  a  slight, 
wise  nod  of  her  head,  where  the  clear  gold  of  youth 
had  not  yet  given  way  to  the  brown-gold  of  maiden 
hood.  "  But  I  think  it  strange  that  all  her  fine 
friends  have  dropped  off  from  her.  That 's  what  she 
told  me  to-day,  Father  ;  truly,  she  did  !  Why  don't 
they  care  for  her  any  more  ?  Is  it  because  she  's  poor 
and  has  to  teach  little  dunces  like  me?  " 

T wining' s  feminine  blue  eyes  scanned  the  rather 
dingy  tablecloth  for  a  moment.  "  I  am  afraid  it  is," 
he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  pressing  between  his  fingers 
a  bit  of  ill-baked  bread  that  grew  doughy  at  a  touch. 

Mrs.  Twining  ceased  to  carve  the  obdurate  beef 
steak,  though  still  retaining  her  hold  on  the  horn- 
handled  knife  and  fork.  She  lifted  her  head  so  that 
it  quito  towered  above  the  formidable,  -group  of  cas 
ters,  and  looked  straight  at  her  husband. 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  15 

"  Don't  put  false  notions  into  the  child,  Francis," 
she  said,  each  word  seeming  to  strike  the  next  with 
a  steely  click.  "  You  're  always  doing  it.  You  know 
nothing  of  where  that  woman  came  from,  or  who 
she  is." 

Twining  looked  at  his  wife.  His  gaze  was  very 
mild.  "  I  only  know  what  she  has  told  rue,  Jane," 
he  said. 

Mrs.  Twining  laughed  and  resumed  the  carving. 
Her  laugh  never  went  with  a  smile ;  it  never  had 
the  least  concern  with  mirth ;  it  was  nearly  always 
a  presage  of  irony,  as  an  east  wind  will  blow  news  of 
storm. 

"  Oh,  certainly  ;  what  she  's  told  you  !  That 's 
you,  all  over !  Suppose  she  'd  told  you  she  'd  been 
Lady  of  the  White  House  once.  You  would  n't  have 
believed  her,  not  you  !  Of  course  not !  " 

"  What  is  a  Lady  of  the  White  House  ?  "  asked 
Claire,  appealing  to  her  father.  She  was  perfectly 
accustomed  to  these  satiric  outbursts  on  her  mother's 
part ;  they  belonged  to  the  home-circle  ;  she  would 
have  missed  them  if  they  had  ceased  ;  it  would  have 
been  like  a  removal  of  the  hair-cloth  sofa,  or  an  acci 
dent  to  one  of  the  lovers  on  the  window-shades. 

Twining  disregarded  this  simple  question,  which 
was  a  rare  act  with  him ;  he  usually  heard  and 
heeded  whatever  Claire  had  to  say. 

"  Please  don't  speak  hard  things  of  Mrs.  Car- 
michael,"  he  answered  his  wife.  "  She 's  really  a 
person  who  has  seen  better  days." 

"  Better  days  !  "  echoed  Mrs.  Twining.  "  Well, 
then,  we  ought  to  shake  hands.  /  think  she's  just 
the  plainest  humbug  I  ever  saw,  with  her  continual 
brag  about  altered  circumstances.  But  I  '11  take 


16  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

your  word  for  it,  Francis.  The  next  time  I  see  her 
I  '11  tell  her  we  're  fellow-unfortunates.  We  '11  com 
pare  our  '  better  days  '  together,  and  calc'late  who  's 
seen  the  most." 

Twining  gave  a  faint  sigh,  and  looked  down.  Then 
he  raised  his  eyes  again,  and  a  new  spark  lit  their 
mildness.  Something  to-night  had  made  him  kick 
his  old  patient  tolerance. 

"  I  'm  afraid  Mrs.  Carmichael  would  have  much 
the  longer  list,"  he  said. 

"  Ob,  you  think  so  !  " 

"  I  know  so." 

Mrs.  Twining  tossed  her  head.  The  gloss  was 
still  on  her  dark  hair,  whose  gray  threads  had  yet  to 
come,  later,  in  the  Greenpoint  days.  She  was  still, 
as  the  phrase  goes,  a  fine  figure  of  a  woman.  Her 
black  eyes  had  not  lost  their  fire,  nor  her  form  its  im 
posing  fullness.  She  raised  herself  a  little  from  her 
chair,  as  she  now  spoke,  and  in  her  voice  there  was 
the  harshness  that  well  fitted  her  bristling,  aggressive 
mien. 

"  Oh !  you  know  so,  do  you  ?  "  she  said,  in  hostile 
undertone.  Then  her  next  words  were  considerably 
louder.  "  But  I  happen  to  know,  Francis  Twining, 
Ifcquire,  who  and  what  /  was  when  you  took  me 
from  a  comfortable  home  to  land  me  up  here  at  the 
end  of  the  world,  where  I  'm  lucky  if  I  can  get  hold 
of  yesterday's  newspaper  to-morrow,  and  cross  over 
to  the  cars  without  leaving  a  shoe  behind  me  in  the 
mud  ! " 

The  least  flush  had  tinged  Twining's  pale  cheeks. 
He  had  looked  very  steadily  at  his  wife  all  through 
this  speech.  And  when  he  now  spoke,  his  voice  made 
Claire  start.  It  did  not  seem  his. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  17 

"  You  were  a  poor  girl  in  a  third-rate  boarding- 
house,  when  I  married  you,"  he  said.  "  And  the 
boarding-house  was  kept  by  relatives  who  disliked 
and  wanted  to  be  rid  of  you.  I  don't  see  how  you 
have  fallen  one  degree  lower  since  you  became  my 
wife.  But  if  you  think  that  you  have  so  fallen,  I 
beg  that  you  will  not  forever  taunt  me  with  idle 
sneers,  of  which  I  am  sick  to  the  soul !" 

Mrs.  Twining  rose  from  her  chair.  Her  dress  was 
of  some  dark-red  stuff,  and  as  the  stronger  light  struck 
its  woof  the  wrath  of  her  knit  brows  seemed  to  gain 
a  lurid  augment.  She  had  grown  pale,  and  a  little 
mole,  jnst  an  inch  or  so  to  the  left  of  her  assertive 
nose,  had  got  a  new  clearness  from  this  cause.  She 
did  not  speak,  at  first,  to  her  husband.  She  addressed 
the  fatigued  and  heated  maid,  who  waited  to  hand 
Twining  his  share  of  the  doleful  beefsteak  —  in  this 
case  a  true  burnt-offering. 

"  You  can  go  into  the  kitchen,  Mary  Ann,"  she 
said,  with  tones  that  had  a  kind  of  rumble,  like  the 
beginning  of  a  large  thunder-peal,  before  its  threat 
has  become  fury.  "  See  to  the  range,  you  know. 
Dump  all  the  coal  out,  and  then  sift  it." 

Mary  Ann  went  uneasily  toward  the  door.  She 
understood  that  this  order  thinly  masked  a  bluff  com 
mand  for  her  absence.  Mrs.  Twining  slowly  turned 
her  head,  and  followed  the  poor  factotum  with  her 
kindled  black  eyes  till  she  had  quitted  the  room. 
Then  she  looked  with  stern  directness  at  her  hus 
band. 

"  I  Ve  stood  a  good  deal  from  you,"  she  said,  pitch 
ing  her  voice  in  a  much  shriller  key,  "  but  I  ain't 
going  to  stand  this,  Francis  Twining,  and  it 's  time  I 
told  you  so." 

2 


18  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Twining  rose.  He  did  not  look  at  all  angry. 
There  was  a  weary  distress  on  his  face,  mixed  with 
an  unhabitual  firmness. 

"  What  have  you  stood?"  he  asked. 

"  Being  browbeat  by  you,  sir,  because  I  see  fit  to 
talk  out  my  mind,  and  ain't  the  weak-spirited  goose 
you  'd  like  to  have  me !  "  retorted  Mrs.  Twining,  all 
rage  and  outcry. 

"  I  don't  want  a  quarrel,"  said  Twining,  calm  as 
marble.  "  God  knows  I  don't,  Jane  !  But  the  time 
has  come  for  me  to  speak  plainly.  I  have  never 
browbeaten  you.  It  has  been  quite  the  opposite.  I 
have  already  borne  too  much  from  you  for  the  sake 
of  peace.  But  no  peace  springs  from  that  course. 
So  now  I  mean  to  try  another.  You  and  I  must  live 
apart,  since  we  can't  agree."  He  turned  to  Claire, 
at  this  point,  and  reached  out  one  hand,  resting  it  on 
the  girl's  head.  "  Let  our  child  choose  which  of  us 
she  will  go  with,"  he  added. 

Claire  started  up,  sprang  to  her  father's  side,  and 
nestled  herself  against  him,  catching  one  of  his 
hands  in  both  her  own  and  drawing  his  arm  about 
her  neck.  She  was  trembling  with  what  seemed 
sudden  fear  as  she  looked  up  into  his  face. 

"  Father,"  she  cried,  "I  '11  go  with  you!  I  couldn't 
live  alone  with  Mother.  If  you  go,  take  me  with 
you  !  Promise  —  please  promise  !  Mother  is  n't  good 
to  me  a  bit.  ^1  could  n't  live  alone  with  her  !  She  is 
cross  nearly  all  the  time,  when  you  're  not  here,  and 
she  struck  me  yesterday,  and  she  often  does  it,  and 
I  did  n't  ever  tell  you  before,  because  I  knew  it  would 
trouble  you  so  to  know !  " 

These  words  were  spoken  in  a  high,  pleading, 
plaintive  voice.  The  child's  sad  little  secret  had 


Atf  AMMTIOVS  WOMAN,  19 

been  wrung  from  her  by  sheer  terror  of  desertion. 
There  was  no  accusative  resentment  in  her  tones; 
she  might  have  gom>  on  for  a  long  time  hiding  the 
truth ;  it  had  leapt  to  her  lips  now  only  in  the 
shape  of  an  impetuous  argument  against  the  dreaded 
chance  of  being  left  behind,  should  her  father's 
menace  of  departure  become  fact.  Mrs.  Twining 
moved  from  her  own  side  of  the  table  to  where  her 
husband  and  daughter  stood.  She  looked  persistently 
at  Claire,  during  this  action,  and  had  soon  drawn 
very  close,  to  her. 

"•  You  sly  young  vixen  !  "  she  exclaimed.  Her  cry 
had  a  husky  note,  and  she  raised  one  hand.  It  was 
plain  that  she  meant  wicked  work  to  Claire.  Twin 
ing  pushed  Claire  behind  him,  quick  as  thought,  and 
seized  his  wife's  hand  while  it  fell.  He  had  grown 
white  to  the  lips.  His  clasp  was  not  weak  about  the 
wrist  which  he  still  retained.  He  did  not  appear  at 
all  like  a  man  in  a  passion,  but  rather  like  one  filled 
with  the  resolve  which  gets  new  sinew  from  excite 
ment. 

"  You  shall  never  strike  that  child  again."  Then 
he  released  his  wife's  wrist,  and  half  turned,  putting 
his  arms  round  Claire,  while  she  again  nestled  at  his 
side.  "  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you,"  he  went  on, 
"  but  neither  she  nor  I  shall  live  with  you  after  to 
morrow.  It  was  bad  enough  to  have  you  make  things 
hard  for  me,  but  you  shan't  spoil  her  with  your  own 
coarseness."  The  next  moment  he  turned  to  Claire, 
wrapped  her  still  more  fervently  in  both  arms,  and 
kissed  her  twice  or  thrice  on  the  uplifted  forehead. 

Mrs.  Twining  stood  quite  still,  for  a  short  while. 
She  was  watching  her  husband  intently.  Something 
new  in  him  had  revealed  itself  to  her  j  it  blunted  the 


20  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

edge  of  her  anger ;  she  was  unprepared  for  it.  Per 
sonal  defiance  in  Twining  might  merely  have  quick 
ened  her  own  long-petted  sense  of  grievance,  which 
had  grown  morbidly  dear,  as  we  know.  But  a  fresh 
experience  fronted  her;  she  found  herself  repelled, 
so  to  speak,  by  the  revolt  of  an  insulted  fatherhood. 

It  was  a  very  serious  rebellion,  and  she  felt  its 
force.  Past  concessions  from  her  husband  gave  the 
measure  of  his  present  mutiny.  He  had  never  been 
humble  to  her,  but  he  had  yielded,  and  she  had 
grown  more  used  than  she  realized  to  his  pliant  com 
plaisance.  This  abrupt  change  shocked  her  with  an 
actual  fright.  Her  ready  little  body-guard  of  taunts 
and  innuendoes  fled  her  usual  summons.  The  despot 
stood  deserted  ;  not  a  janizary  was  left.  She  saw,  in 
quick,  startled  perspective,  her  own  future,  uncom- 
panioned  by  the  man  whose  supporting  nearness  her 
bitter  gibes  had  so  often  slighted.  But  apart  from 
merely  selfish  causes,  a  thrill  of  human  regard  for 
her  child  and  the  father  of  her  child  lent  fresh  accent 
to  alarm.  It  was  like  the  tremor  wrought  in  a. slack 
harp-string,  or  one  rusty  with  disuse,  but  it  was  still 
a  definite  vibration. 

She  succumbed  awkwardly,  like  most  overthrown 
tyrants.  Tears  would  have  looked  incongruous  had 
they  left  the  chill  black  of  her  eyes,  just  as  there  are 
climes  of  so  fixed  a  rigor  that  thaws  rank  in  them 
as  phenomena.  But  her  brows  met  in  a  perplexed 
frown  that  had  no  trace  of  ire,  and  she  made  a  flur 
ried  upward  gesture  with  both  hands,  receding  several 
steps.  When  she  spoke,  which  she  promptly  did,  her 
native  idiom  forgot  the  slight  garb  of  change  that 
marriage  and  nicer  association  had  lent  it,  and  stood 
forth,  stripped  by  agitation,  in  graceless  nudity. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  21 

" Mercy  me,  Francis  !"  she  exclaimed,  "you  ain't 
talking  as  if  you  was  a  sane  man  at  all !  You  '11  quit 
your  lawful  wife,  sir,  'cause  she  's  boxed  her  own 
young  one's  ears  ?  Why,  that  child  can  put  on  the 
airs  of  any  six,  when  she  's  a  mind  to.  I  ain't  pun 
ished  her  half  enough.  Do  set  down  and  eat  your 
supper  and  stop  bein'  a  fool !  " 

These  chronicled  words  have  the  effect  of  rather 
bald  commonplace  it  is  true ;  but  to  the  man  and  the 
child  who  heard  them  an  apprehensive  whimper,  a 
timorous  dilation  of  the  eyeball  and  a  flurried  quiver 
about  the  severe  mouth  were  accompaniments  that 
held  piercing  significance.  Such  tokens  from  their 
domestic  autocrat  meant  surrender,  and  surrender 
was  hard  for  both  Twining  and  Claire  to  join  with 
past  impressions  of  rule  and  sway,  of  command  and 
observance,  from  the  very  source  which  now  gave 
forth  their  direct  opposites. 

Both  father  and  daughter  still  remained  silent. 
Claire's  head  was  still  nestling  against  his  breast ; 
Twining's  arms  still  clasped  her  slight  frame,  as  be 
fore.  Neither  spoke.  But  Mrs.  Twining  soon  spoke 
again,  and  she  moved  toward  the  door  as  she  did  so. 
"  Oh,  you  won't  set  down,  eh  ?  "  she  inquired ; 
and  there  was  now  a  sullen  fright  both  in  her  man. 
ner  and  tone.  "  Very  well.  P'raps  you  '11  eat  your 
supper  when  I  'm  gone.  I  've  always  heard  crazy 
people  must  be  humored.  Besides  't  is  n't  safe,  with 
so  many  knives  and  forks  round." 

After  that  she  left  the  room,  going  up  stairs  into 

the  little  hall  above  the  basement,  where   she  could 

have  seen  her  breath  freeze  if  economic   reasons   had 

not  kept  the  lank,  pendant  gas-burner  still  unlighted. 

She  had  beaten  a  positive  retreat.      Her  exit  had 


22  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

been  a  distinct  concession.  Twining  turned  his  gaze 
toward  the  vacant  threshold  after  she  had  passed  it, 
as  if  he  could  not  just  realize  the  unwonted  humility 
of  her  leave-taking. 

"  Claire,"  he  said,  again  kissing  the  child,  while 
she  yet  clung  to  him,  "  you  should  have  told  me  be 
fore  that  your  mother  struck  you.  You  should  have 
told  me  the  first  time  she  did  it."  He  embraced  her 
still  more  closely.  Since  she  was  a  baby  he  had 
always  treasured  her,  and  now  that  defeat  and  disap 
pointment  dealt  him  such  persistent  strokes,  his  love 
grew  deeper  with  each  disastrous  year.  Claire's 
presence  in  his  life  had  gained  a  precious  worth  from 
trouble  ;  it  was  the  star  that  brightened  with  sweeter 
force  against  a  deepening  gloom. 

He  leaned  down  and  slowly  passed  his  lips  along 
her  silky  hair,  just  where  its  folds  flowed  off  from 
one  pale  temple.  "  Oh,  my  little  girl,"  he  said,  in  a 
voice  whose  volume  and  feeling  had  both  plainly 
strengthened,  "  I  hope  that  happy  days  are  in  store 
for  you  !  I  shall  do  my  best,  darling,  but  if  I  fail 
don't  blame  me.  Don't  blame  me  !  " 

He  appeared  no  longer  to  be  addressing  Claire. 
He  had  lifted  his  head.  Both  his  arms  engirt  her  as 
previously,  but  his  eyes,  looking  straight  before  him, 
were  sombre  with  meditation. 

Claire  gazed  up  into  his  face.  "  Father,"  she 
cried,  "  I  shall  be  happy  if  I  am  always  with  you  ! 
Don't  look  like  that.  Please  don't.  What  does  it 
moan  ?  I  have  never  seen  you  so  sad  before.  It 
frightens  me.  Father,  you  are  so  strange  and  differ 
ent."  He  smiled  down  at  the  child  as  her  high, 
pained  appeal  ended  ;  but  the  smile  so<>n  fled  again  ; 
a  gloomy  agitation  replaced  it.  She  felt  his  clasping 
arms  tremble. 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN  23 

"  You  cannot  always  have  me,"  he  answered.  "  I 
love  you  very  much,  my  little  one,  but  some  clay  I 
must  leave  you  ;  my  time  will  have  come,  and  it  may 
come  while  your  life  is  yet  in  its  first  flower.  Then 
I  want  you  to  be  wiser  than  I.  Listen  to  what  I 
say.  I  am  in  a  dark  humor  now,  but  it  will  soon 
pass,  for  I  can't  help  being  cheerful,  as  you  know ; 
there  's  a  good  deal  more  sun  than  shadow  in  me. 
But  just  now  I  am  all  shadow.  I  feel  as  if  I  should 
never  be  successful,  Claire.  That  is  a  queer  word 
to  your  young  ears.  Do  you  recollect,  when  I  took 
you  for  that  one  day  to  the  country,  last  summer, 
how  we  set  out  to  climb  the  large  hill,  and  were  sure, 
at  starting,  that  we  should  reach  its  top  ?  But  half 
way  up  we  grew  tired  and  hot ;  there  was  no  breeze, 
and  the  way  was  rough  ;  so  we  sat  down,  did  n't  we, 
and  rested,  and  then  went  home?  You  have  not  for 
gotten  ?  Well,  success  means  to  do  what  you  set  out 
for,  darling.  It  means  to  climb  the  hill  —  not  to  get 
tired  and  go  home.  That  is  what  everybody  is  try 
ing  to  do.  But  only  a  few  of  us  ever  reach  the  top. 
And  to  reach  the  top  means  to  have  many  good 
things — to  be  like  the  grand  people  who  were  once 
Airs.  Carmichael's  friends.  Do  vou  understand, 
Claire?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  child.  Her  lips  were  parted.  A 
gloom  had  clouded  the  blue  of  her  eyes ;  they  seemed 
almost  black,  and  two  unwonted  gleams  pierced  them. 
She  was  alarmed  yet  fascinated  by  the  real  sorrow  in 
her  father's  look,  and  by  his  unfamiliar  speech,  with 
its  fervent  speed  and  bitter  ring. 

"  I  shall  never  gain  the  top  of  the  hill,  Claire  !  " 
Twining  went  on.  "  Something  tells  me  so  now  — 
to-night.  To-morrow  I  shall  be  changed.  I  shall 


24  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

turn  hopeful  again.  I  shall  go  climbing  along,  and 
pick  myself  up  stoutly  if  I  stumble.  But  remember 
what  I  tell  you  to-niglit.  In  my  heart,  little  girl, 
there  is  a  great  fear.  I  am  afraid  I  must  leave  you, 
when  I  do  die,  poor  and  helpless.  We  are  always 
helpless  when  we  are  poor.  But  you  must  not  lose 
courage.  There  is  one  thing  a  girl  can  always  do  if 
she  has  beauty  and  wit,  and  you  will  have  both. 
She  can  marry.  In  the  years  of  life  left  to  me,  I 
shall  strain  hard  to  make  you  a  lady.  I  am  a  gen 
tleman.  My  father,  and  his  father,  and  his  father, 
too,  were  all  gentlemen.  It  is  in  your  blood  to  be  a 
lady,  and  a  lady  you  shall  be.  But  your  mother"  — 
Here  he  paused.  Even  his  raw  sense  of  wrong,  and 
the  precipitate  reasoning  native  to  all  passion,  for 
bade  his  completing  the  last  sentence. 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  Father,"  said  Claire, 
who  had  not  lost  the  significance  of  a  word,  and 
whose  mind  would  have  grasped  subtler  discourse 
than  the  present.  She  spoke  falteringly,  and  turned 
her  eyes  toward  the  deserted  table  ;  and  then,  with 
her  shaken,  tragic  little  voice,  she  lapsed  into  the 
prose  of  things,  slipping  over  that  edge  between  the 
emotional  and  the  ordinary  whose  unwilling  junction 
makes  the  clash  that  we  like  to  call  comedy. 

"Father,"  she  said,  "please  sit  down  and  eat  your 
supper.  It  's  getting  cold.  Please  do!  " 

This  is  not  at  all  an  index  of  Claire's  thoughts,  for 
they  were  then  in  a  storm  of  dread  and  misgiving  ; 
but  she  shrank  from  the  changed  aspect  of  one  known 
and  loved  in  moods  widely  different.  She  seized,  as 
if  by  a  fond  instinct,  the  most  ready  means  of  re- 
securing  her  father  as  she  had  at  first  found  him  and 
had  always  afterward  prized  him. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  25 

But  her  attempt  was  vain.  Twining's  arms  only 
tightened  about  her  frail  form.  Like  all  with  whom 
outburst  is  rare,  his  perturbation  worked  toward  a 
climax  ;  it  would  brook  no  repression.  There  are 
craters  that  keep  the  peace  for  many  decades,  but  in 
spite  of  that  their  stored  lava  will  not  be  cheated  of 
the  eruptive  chance. 

So  it  was  with  Twining.  He  trembled  more  than 
ever,  and  his  cheeks  were  now  quite  hueless.  "I 
want  you  to  do  all  that  I  shall  leave  undone, 
Claire  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  voluble  swiftness.  "  I 
want  you  to  conquer  a  high  place  among  men  and 
women.  Be  cool  and  wary,  my  daughter.  Don't 
live  to  serve  self  only,  but  push  your  claims,  enforce 
your  rights,  refuse  to  be  thrust  back,  never  make 
false  steps,  put  faith  in  the  few  and  doubt  the  many. 
Remember  what  I  am  saying.  You  will  need  to  re 
call  it,  for  you  must  start  (God  help  you,  little  one !) 
with  all  the  world  against  you  !  Yes,  all  the  world 
against  you  "... 

A  sudden  gasp  ended  Twining's  words.  His  em 
brace  of  Claire  relaxed,  and  he  staggered  toward  the 
sofa,  which  was  just  behind  him.  As  he  sank  upon 
it,  his  eyes  closed  and  his  head  fell  sideways.  One 
hand  fluttered  about  his  throat,  and  he  seemed  in 
straits  for  breath.  Claire  was  greatly  terrified.  She 
thought  that  to  be  death  which  was  merely  a  tran 
sient  pause  of  vitality.  The  rough  gust  will  bow  the 
frailer  tree,  and  Twining,  weary  in  mind  and  body, 
had  made  too  abrupt  drafts  upon  a  temperament  far 
from  robust. 

The  child  uttered  a  piercing  cry.  It  summoned 
the  proscribed  Mary  Ann  from  exile  in  the  neighbor 
ing  kitchen  j  it  was  heard  and  heeded  by  Mrs.  Twin- 


26  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

ing,  aloof  in  some  remoter  chamber.  Yet,  before 
either  had  reached  the  scene  of  Claire's  disquietude, 
her  father  had  already  pressed  the  warm  hand  which 
sought  his  cold  one,  and  had  looked  at  her  with  a 
gaze  that  wore  the  glow  of  recognition. 

"  Claire,"  he  soon  said,  brokenly,  and  with  faint 
utterance,  "I  —  I  was  unwell  for  a  moment. —  that  is 
all.  Here,  little  girl,  kiss  me,  and  then  give  me  a 
glass  of  water." 

"  Yes,  Father,"  said  Claire.  Pier  response  showed 
a  joyous  relief.  She  knelt  beside  him,  and  put  her 
lips  to  his.  It  was  like  the  good-night  kiss  she  al 
ways  gave  him,  except  that  she  made  it  longer  than 
of  old.  And  then  she  rose  to  get  the  glass  of  water, 
hearing  footsteps  approach. 

As  she  poured  the  liquid,  with  unsteady  fingers,  a 
partial  echo  of  her  father's  impetuous  enjoinder  swept 
through  her  mind.  "  I  shall  never  forget  this  night," 
she  told  herself.  Her  silent  prophecy  proved  true. 
She  never  did  forget. 


III. 


TWINING'S  menace  was  not  carried  out.  There 
was  no  actual  reconciliation  between  Imsbaml  and 
wife,  and  yet  matters  slowly  rearranged  themselves. 
The  domestic  machinery,  being  again  set  moving, 
went  at  first  in  a  lame,  spasmodic  way,  as  though 
jarred  and  strained  through  all  its  wheel-work.  But 
by  degrees  the  old  order  of  things  returned.  And 
yet  a  marked  change,  in  one  respect  at  least,  was  al 
ways  afterward  evident.  Mrs.  Twining  had  received 
a  clear  admonition,  and  she  was  discreet  enough  per 
manently  to  regard  it.  She  still  dealt  in  her  former 
slurs  and  innuendoes  ;  the  leopard  could  not  change 
its  spots ;  no  such  radical  reformation  was  naturally 
to  be  expected.  But  Twining  had  put  forth  his  pro 
test ;  he  had  shown  very  plainly  that  his  endurance 
had  its  limits,  and  through  all  the  years  that  fol 
lowed,  his  wife  never  lost  sight  of  this  vivid  little 
fact.  She  had  been  seriously  frightened,  and  the 
fright  left  its  vibration  of  warning  as  long  as  she  and 
her  husband  dwelt  under  the  same  roof.  Her  sting 
had  by  no  means  been  extracted,  but  its  point  was 
blunter  and  its  poison  less  irritant.  She  never  again 
struck  Claire.  She  was  sometimes  very  imperious 
to  her  daughter,  and  very  acrimonious  as  well.  But 
in  her  conduct  there  was  now  a  sombre  acknowledg 
ment  of  curtailed  authority,  —  an  under-current  of 


28  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

concession,  occasionally  rather  faint,  it  is  true,  yet 
always  operative. 

During  the  next  j^ear  the  family  deserted  One- 
Hundred  -  and  -  Twelfth  Street  for.  a  new  place  of 
abode.  Twining  received  a  few  extra  hundreds  as 
earnest  of  shadowy  thousands  promised  him  by  a 
glib-tongued  rogue  who  was  to  appall  the  medical 
world  with  a  wondrous  compound  that  must  soon 
rob  half  the  diseases  known  to  pathology  of  their 
last  terrors.  The  elixir  was  to  be  "  placed  hand 
somely  on  the  market,"  and  toward  this  elegant  en 
terprise  poor  Twining  gave  serious  aid.  For  the 
lump  of  savings  that  went  from  him,  however,  he 
was  paid  only  a  tithe  of  his  rash  investment.  One 
day  he  learned  that  the  humane  chemist  had  fled 
from  the  scene  of  his  proposed  benignities,  and  a  lit 
tle  later  came  the  drear  discovery  that  his  miracu 
lous  potion  was  merely  an  unskillful  blending  of  two 
or  three  common  speciiics  with  as  many  popular 
nervines. 

Meanwhile  the  halcyon  promise  of  bettered  for 
tunes  had  induced  Twining  to  secure  easier  quarters. 
For  several  months  he  set  his  household  gods  within 
apartments  on  the  second  floor  of  a  shnpely  browrn- 
stone  residence  in  a  central  side -street.  This  was 
really  a  decisive  move  toward  greater  social  impor 
tance.  The  very  tone  of  his  upholstery  bespoke  a 
distinct  rise  in  life.  There  was  not  a  hair-cloth  sofa 
in  his  pretty  suite  of  chambers.  The  furniture  was 
tufted  and  modish  ;  one  or  two  glowing  grates  re 
placed  the  dark  awkwardness  of  stoves;  draughts 
were  an  abolished  evil ;  to  sup  on  burnt  beefsteak 
had  grown  a  shunned  memory,  since  the  family  now 
dined  at  six  o'clock  each  evening  in  a  lower  room, 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  2S 

where  they  had  a  small  table  all  to  themselves,  and 
ate  a  repast  served  in  courses  with  a  distinct  air  of 
fashion,  if  not  always  cooked  after  the  loftier  meth 
ods.  Here  they  met-  other  gimips  at  other  small 
tables,  and  bowed  to  them  with  |he  bland  nod  of  co- 
sharers  in  worldly  comfort.  It  was  all  a  most  note 
worthy  change  for  the  Twinings,  and  its  effect  upon 
Mrs.  Twining  was  no  less  obvious  than  acute.  She 
seemed  to  clutch  the  new  favors  of  fate  with  a  min 
gled  greed  and  distrust.  She  was  like  one  who 
crushes  thirstily  between  his  lips  a  luscious  fruit, 
won  by  theft,  and  thought  to  be  watched  with  the 
intent  of  quick  seizure. 

She  had  already  quite  lost  faith  in  anything  like 
the  permanence  of  her  husband's  good  fortune.  "  I  'cl 
better  make  hay  wThile  the  sun  shines,"  she  would 
exclaim,  with  a  burst  of  laughter  that  had,  as  usual, 
no  touch  of  mirth  in  it.  "  Lord  knows  when  it  '11 
end.  I  'm  sure  I  hope  never.  Don't  think  I  'm 
croaking.  Gracious  me,  no !  But  even  the  Five 
Points  won't  seem  so  bad,  after  this.  They  say 
every  dog  has  his  day,  don't  they,  Francis  ?  So,  all 
right ;  if  mine  's  a  short  day,  I  '11  be  up  and  doing 
while  it  lasts." 

She  was  undoubtedly  up  and  doing.  She  carried 
her  large  frame  with  a  more  assertive  majesty  ;  she 
aired  one  or  two  fresh  gowns  with  a  loud  ostenta 
tion  ;  she  had  a  little  quarrel  with  a  fellow-lodger  of 
her  own  sex  about  the  prevailing  fashion  in  bonnets, 
and  said  so  many  personal  things  during  the  contest 
that  her  adversary,  who  was  a  person  with  nerves, 
retired  in  tearful  disarray.  On  more  than  one  Sun 
day  morning  she  induced  her  husband  to  walk  with 
her  along  Fifth  Avenue  and  "  see  the  churches  come 


30  AN  A  MB  IT!  0  ITS   WOMAN. 

out."  At  such  times  she  would  lean  upon  his  arm, 
grandly  indifferent  to  the  fact  that  her  stature  over 
topped  his  own,  and  stare  with  her  severe  black  eyes 
at  all  the  passing  phases  of  costume.  It  is  probable 
that  the  pair  made^a  very  grotesque  picture  on  these 
occasions,  since  all  that  implied  refinement  in  tlio 
man's  face  and  demeanor  must  have  acquired  a  fatal 
stamp  of  insignificance  beside  the  woman's  preten 
sion  of  carriage  and  raw  spruceness  of  apparel.  But 
Mrs.  Twining  was  making  her  hay,  as  she  has  told 
us,  while  the  sun  shone,  and  it  is  hardly  strange  that 
she  should  not  be  critical  as  to  the  exact  quality  of 
her  crop.  A  good  deal  of  rough  experience  in  the 
woes  of  dearth  and  drouth  had,  naturally,  not  made 
her  a  fastidious  harvester. 

Claire,  meanwhile,  had  begun  to  feel  as  if  she 
dwelt  on  quite  a  new  sort  of  planet.  Her  environ 
ment  had  lost  every  trace  of  its  former  dullness.  Its 
neutral  shades  had  freshened  into  brilliant  and  excit 
ing  tints.  Little  Mrs.  Carmichael,  with  her  hoard 
of  memories  stowed  away  like  old  brocades  in  a 
scented  chest,  had  herself  faded  off  into  a  memory 
as  dim  as  these.  Claire  had  of  late  become  one  of 
the  pupils  in  a  large,  well-reputed  school,  where  she 
met  girls  of  all  ages  and  characters,  but  seemingly  of 
only  a  single  social  rank.  The  academy  was  superm* 
tended  by  a  magnificent  lady  in  chronic  black  corded- 
silk,  whose  rich  rustle  was  heard  for  a  half  minute 
before  she  entered  each  of  her  various  class-rooms 
and  held  bits  of  whispered  converse  with  the  in 
structresses  under  her  serene  sway.  Her  name  was 
Mrs.  Arcularius,  and  its  fine  rhythmical  polysyllable 
seemed  to  symbolize  the  dignity  of  its  owner's  slow 
walk,  the  majesty  of  her  arched  nose  and  gold  eye- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  31 

glasses,  and  the  white  breadth  of  her  forehead,  from 
which  the  gray  tresses  were  rolled  backward  in  high 
solidness,  with  quite  a  regal  effect  of  hair-dressing. 
This  lady  was  the  direct  contra-type  of  Mrs.  Car- 
michael.  It  was  widely  recorded  of  her  that  she  had 
once  been  a  gentlewoman  of  independent  wealth,  had 
chanced  upon  adverse  times,  and  had  for  this  reason 
become  the  proprietress  of  a  school.  But  she  had 
made  her  grand  friends  pay  the  penalty  of  her  mis 
fortunes  ;  she  had  acquired  the  skill  of  using  them 
as  an  advertisement  of  her  venture  at  self-support. 
She  had  not  gone  up  to  One-Hundred-and-Twelfth 
Street  and  mourned  their  loss  ;  she  had  stayed  in 
Twenty-Third  Street,  and  suffered  their  children,  lit 
tle  and  big,  to  come  unto  her.  She  had  at  first  gra 
ciously  allowed  herself  to  be  pitied  for  her  reverses, 
but  she  had  always  possessed  the  art  of  handing  back 
their  patronage  to  those  who  proffered  it,  in  the 
wholly  altered  form  of  a  gracious  condescension  from 
hei-self.  This  is  a  very  clever  thing  to  do ;  it  is  a 
thing  which  they  alone  know  how  to  do  who  know 
how  to  fall  from  high  places  with  a  self-saving  re 
bound  ;  and  Mrs.  Arcularius,  who  was  a  decidedly 
ignorant  woman,  was  also  a  marvelously  clever  one. 
She  knew  rather  less,  in  a  strictly  educational  sense, 
than  poor,  unsuccessful  Mrs.  Carmichael.  She  had 
been  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Carmichael's  in  the  latter's 
gladsome  days,  but  she  was  now  not  even  aware 
that  her  old  associate  was  teaching  school  anywhere. 
Everybody  was  aware,  on  the  other  hand,  that  Mrs. 
Arcularius  was  teaching  school,  and  just  where  she 
was  teaching  it.  Poverty  had  crushed  one  ;  it  had 
stimulated  the  other.  Mrs.  Arcularius  was  now  ex 
ceedingly  particular  as  regarded  her  visiting-book. 


32  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

She  was  a  conspicuous  figure  at  the  most  select  re 
ceptions.  Whether  the  fact  that  she  presided  over 
a  fashionable  school  had  made  her  lose  caste  or  no, 
she  chose  secretly  to  believe  that  it  had,  and  for  this 
reason  let  her  voluminous  black  silk  robes  rustle  only 
in  the  most  irreproachable  assemblages. 

She  greatly  desired  that  her  pupils  should  all  bear 
the  sacred  sign  of  aristocratic  parentage.  She  did 
not  object  to  the  offspring  of  struggling  plutocrats  ; 
for  she  was  wise  in  her  generation,  and  had  seen  more 
than  one  costly-laden  camel  squeeze  itself  through  a 
needle's  eye  straight  into  the  kingdom  of  the  blessed. 
But  she  had  strong  objections  to  having  her  school 
lose  tone.  Above  all  things,  this  was  her  dread  and 
abhorrence. 

And  therefore  she  had  been  covertly  distressed  by 
the  application  of  Twining  for  his  daughter's  admis 
sion.  She  had  "  placed  "  him  before  he  had  spoken 
three  words  to  her.  She  always  "  placed  "  with  equal 
speed  everybody  whom  she  met  for  the  first  time,  lie 
was  a  decayed  foreigner,  and  she  abominated  decayed 
foreigners.  He  was  a  person  who  wanted  to  make  his 
common  little  daughter  profit  by  the  prestige  of  her 
establishment,  and  she  had  a  like  distaste  for  all  per 
sons  of  this  class.  She  looked  at  Claire's  attire,  and 
inwardly  shivei'ed.  The  girl  had  on  a  frock  cut  and 
trimmed  in  a  way  that  struck  her  observer  as  posi 
tively  satanic.  The  lovely  natural  wave  of  her  hair 
had  been  tortured  by  her  mother  into  long  ringlets, 
made  sleek  and  firm  under  the  stiffening  spell  of 
sugar -and -water,  and  pendant  about  her  shoulders 
with  a  graceless  vertical  primness.  But  the  head  and 
front  of  the  poor  child's  offending  was,  in  the  sight  of 
her  new  critic,  a  hat  which  Mrs.  Twining  esteemed  a 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  S3 

triumph  of  taste,  which  she  had  bought  as  a  great  bar 
gain  the  day  before,  and  which  was  half-smothered, 
from  crown  to  brim,  in  small  white  roses,  each  bear 
ing  a  little  movable  glass  bead  that  was  meant  to  imi 
tate  a  dew-drop. 

Mrs.  Arcularius  decided,  however,  to  receive  Claire 
as  one  of  her  pupils.  There  had  been  a  falling-off,  of 
late,  in  their  list.  A  good  many  sweet  girl-graduates 
had  gone  off  at  her  last  commencement  day.  Besides, 
it  was  absurd  to  suppose  that  any  flock  could  be  kept 
from  an  incidental  black  sheep  or  so.  More  than  this, 
there  was  a  fascinating  intelligence  about  Claire's 
face,  with  its  two  dark-blue  stars  of  eyes,  and  a  musi 
cal  sorcery  in  the  child's  timid  tones  when  she  spoke, 
that  no  diablerie  of  millinery  could  dispel. 

It  soon  proved  that  Claire's  fellow-scholars  were 
far  from  sharing  this  latter  opinion.  She  was  re 
ceived  among  them  with  haughty  coolness,  varied  by 
incidental  giggles.  She  suffered  three  days  of  silent 
torture,  and  at  their  end  told  her  father,  in  a  passion 
of  tears,  that  he  must  take  her  away  from  Mrs.  Ar- 
cularius's  school.  The  girls  there  all  despised  her 
and  laughed  at  her  ;  hardly  one  of  them  had  yet  even 
spoken  to  her ;  they  seemed  to  think  her  beneath 
them  ;  it  was  horrible;  she  could  not  stand  it;  it  was 
just  as  if  she  had  some  disease  and  they  were  all 
afraid  of  catching  it  from  her. 

"  There  is  one  girl,"  sobbed  Claire,  with  her  arms 
round  her  father's  neck  and  her  head  on  his  dear, 
kindly  breast,  "  that  I  know  I  shall  slap  or  throw 
something  at  if  I  stay.  She  has  red  hair  and  very 
white  skin,  with  little  freckles  all  over  it,  and  she  is 
quite  fat.  She  wears  a  different  dress  every  day,  and 
it's  always  something  handsome  bu,t  queer  to  look 


34  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

at.  ...  I  heard  her  tell  another  girl  that  all  her 
clothes  came  from  Paris.  She  brings  two  bananas 
for  lunch,  and  long  cakes  spread  over  with  chocolate, 
that  spirt  out  something  soft  and  yellow,  like  cus 
tard,  when  she  bites  into  them,  and  soil  her  fingers. 
.  .  .  Well,  Father,  that  girl  sits  near  me,  and  she  is 
always  making  fun  of  me  behind  my  back,  and  whis 
pering  things  about  me  to  the  others  that  make  them 
burst  out  laughing  and  watch  me  from  the  corners 
of  their  eyes.  ...  Of  course  this  is  only  at  recess,  but 
at  all  times,  Father,  I  can  feel  how  they  are  thinking 
that  I  have  no  right,  no  business  among  them.  .  .  . 
And  perhaps  I  have  n't.  Oh,  Father,  I  want  to  be  a 
lady  as  much  as  you  want  me  to  be  one,  but  ...  is  n't 
there  some  other  way  of  learning  how  ?  If  you  '11  only 
take  me  from  that  dreadful  place,  I  '11  .  .  .1  '11  go 
anywhere  else  you  please  !  " 

Indignant,  yet  pierced  with  sympathy  for  his  dar 
ling,  Twining  promised  her  that  she  should  go  back 
no  more  to  Mrs.  Arcularins's. 

Claire  kissed  him,  and  then  put  her  wet  cheek 
against  his.  But  an  instant  later  she  lifted  her  head. 
She  had  thought  of  her  mother,  who  was  paying  one 
of  their  fellow-boarders  a  visit  that  evening,  and  at 
this  very  moment  was  stating  to  her  hostess,  with  a 
sort  of  saturnine  braggadocio,  that  Claire's  new  school 
"ought  to  be  a  regular  first-class  one,  and  no  mis 
take,  for  it  was  going  to  cost  a  regular  first-class  kind 
of  a  price." 

"But  Mother?"  said  Claire,  in  anxious  query, 
"  what  will  she  say,  Father  ?  " 

"  Never  mind  what  your  mother  will  say,  my  dear," 
answered  Twining,  in  his  gentle  undertone.  And 
Claire  remembered  a  certain  night  in  One-Hundred- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  35 

and-Twelftli  Street,  —  a  night  which  she  had  never 
really  forgotten,  as  we  know,  and  whose  incident  was 
fated  sharply  to  revisit  her  through  many  an  eventful 
year  yet  unlived. 

But  Claire's  tears  were  scarcely  dried  before  she 
regretted  the  promise  won  from  her  father,  and  asked 
him  to  revoke  it.  Her  young  face  looked  pale  and 
resolute  as  she  did  so.  Her  brief  burst  of  weakness 
had  passed.  The  ambition  to  seize  and  hold  any 
near  means  of  advancement  was  already  no  weak  im 
pulse  in  her  youthful  being.  As  it  afterward  struck 
the  great  key-note  of  her  life,  and  became  the  source 
of  every  discord  or  harmony  which  that  life  was  to 
contain,  so  now  its  force  had  begun  to  stir  secret  cen 
tres  and  to  prelude  the  steady  influence  which  must 
soon  impel  and  sway  her. 

"  Let  me  try  a  little  Avhile  longer,  Father,"  she 
said,  standing  near  him  and  holding  his  hand.  -  Her 
head  was  slightly  thrown  backward  ;  her  mouth  was 
grave  and  firm.  She  was  so  slender  and  fragile  that 
this  solemn  mood  might  have  made  one  think,  as  he 
regarded  her,  of  a  lily  that  had  found  some  art  to 
cast  aside  its  droop,  while  all  its  lightsome  traits  of 
stem  or  petal  still  remained. 

"  Yes,  I  mean  it,  Father,"  she  continued,  with  a 
very  deep  seriousness.  "  I  have  begun  to  climb  the 
hill,  and  I  shan't  get  tired  so  soon  and  sit  down  to 
rest.  You  told  me  I  must  not,  and  I  won't.  I  do 
not  want  to  sit  down  at  all  until  I  shall  reach  the 
top.  .  .  .  But  you  can  help  me,  if  you  will;  you  can 
make  it  easier  for  me."  She  pressed  his  hand.  "  Will 
you  make  it  easier,  Father  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Yes  !  "  he  answered.  He  spoke  the  word  with 
out  knowing  what  she  meant.  He  could  have  spoken 


36  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

no  other  at  this  moment,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  him 
like  that,  and  her  clinging  hand  tense  about  his  own. 
lie  loved  her  so  well  that  he  would  have  faced  any 
peril  to  save  her  from  arty  harm.  She  was  his  cheer, 
his  pride,  his  hope,  his  happiness.  He  thought  her 
the  most  beautiful  little  girl  in  all  the  world.  He 
had  forgotten  to  tell  himself  that  her  mother  made 
her  look  a  guy  in  seeking  to  make  her  more  pretty. 
To  him  she  was  always  his  innocent,  blameless  idol  — 
his  Claire,  whom  he  had  named  after  his  own  dead 
mother,  known  only  in  the  idealizing  years  of  early 
childhood.  He  never  looked  into  her  face  without 
feeling  his  heart  beat  a  trifle  quicker.  He  had 'been 
in  love  with  her  from  the  time  when  he  first  held  her, 
a  new-born  baby,  and  he  was  in  love  with  her  still. 
It  was  a  love  which  had  the  best  glow  and  thrill  of 
those  dramatic  passions  that  make  our  tales,  our  trag 
edies,  and  our  epics,  only  that  by  absence  of  the  one 
fevered  sentiment  knit  and  kinned  with  these,  it  so 
gained  in  purity  and  unselfishness  as  to  strip  from 
all  hint  of  over-praise  the  holier  epithet  of  divine. 

Naturally  enough  came  Twining's  afterthought. 

"What  is  it  that  lean  do  for  you,  Claire?"  he 
asked.  "  How  can  I  make  it  easier?" 

"  In  this  way,  Father.  Listen.  I  want  to  dress 
differently  at  school.  I  want  to  wear  another  frock  — 
I  know  which  one  —  I  am  afraid  you  would  n't  recol 
lect  which  it  is  it'  I  told  you.  But  it  is  not  the  pink 
merino  which  I  have  on  now.  Pink  merino  is  not 
nice.  And  my  new  hat  with  the  white  roses  is  not 
nice,  either.  I  did  n't  think  of  this  till  I  noticed  how 
the  other  girls  dressed  at  Mrs.  Arcularius's.  Then  I 
remembered  that  mine  was  something  very  like  the 
style  in  which  Mrs.  Halloran  used  to  dress  her  little 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  37 

girl,  Bridget,  every  Sunday.  You  do  recollect  Mrs. 
Halloran,  don't  yon  Father?  Her  husband  used  to 
work  on  one  of  the  Harlem  boats,  and  they  lived 
down  near  the  river  in  that  small  red  house,  and 
there  was  a  bee-hive  in  the  garden,  and  a  horrid  bull 
dog  that  used  to  jump  out  of  his  kennel  if  he  heard 
the  least  noise,  and  bark  so,  and  try  to  break  his 
chain.  But  little  Bridget  used  to  have  pink  kid  shoes, 
though,  to  match  her  dress,  and  very  proud  they 
made  her.  And  her  hair  was  curled  in  that  stiff 
way,  just  as  Mother  curls  mine.  Now,  Father,  I 
want  you  to  let  me  brush  all  the  curl  out  of  my  hair 
except  what  it  has  of  its  own  free  choice,  and  to  let 
me  just  tie  it  in  a  bunch  behind  with  a  dark  ribbon, 
and  to  let  me  wear. my  brown  bonnet,  which  is  rather 
shabby,  perhaps,  though  I  don't  mind  that.  And  if 
Mother  cares  to  buy  me  anything  new,  I  want  you  to 
go  with  us  —  say  some  Saturday  evening  when  the 
stores  keep  open  —  and  to  let  me  use  my  own  taste 
in  choosing  quiet  and  pretty  things.  But  that  will 
be  afterward.  I'd  like  you  to  think,  just  now,  only 
about  to-morrow,  you  know.  I  'd  like" —  But  there 
Twining  stopped  her  with  a  kiss.  He  was  smiling, 
but  his  eyes  were  moist. 

"  You  shan't  dress  like  little  Bridget  Halloran  any 
longer,  Claire,  darling,"  he  said.  "  I  '11  see  to  it  as 
soon  as  your  mother  returns." 

He  kept  his  word.  When  Mrs.  Twining  reap 
peared  he  sent  Claire  out  of  the  room.  She  knew  a 
storm  was  coming ;  she  was  glad  to  be  away  while  it 
broke  and  raged.  She  went  as  far  away  as  possible, 
into  her  own  bedroom,  two  chambers  off,  closing  the 
intermediate  doors.  Once,  while  waiting  here,  she 
heard  the  smothered  sound  of  a  high,  wrathful  voice. 


38  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

It  was  ner  mother's,  no  doubt.  But  she  knew  that 
however  hot  the  conflict,  her  father  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  be  victor. 

And  he  was.  The  next  day  Claire  went  to  Mrs. 
Arcularius's  without  her  white  roses  or  her  pink 
merino. 

"  You  look  for  all  the  world  like  a  charity-child," 
her  mother  said  to  her,  in  gruff  leave-taking.  u  Still, 
I  don't  s'pose  it  matters  any.  You  might  as  well 
practice  for  a  short  spell  beforehand." 

Claire's  altered  raiment  produced  an  immense  sen 
sation  among  her  classmates.  Even  several  of  the 
teachers  showed  signs  of  surprise.  The  new  plainness 
of  her  attire  brought  out  her  unquestioned  beauty,  as 
gaudier  and  ill-blended  vestments  had  before  marred 
and  obscured  it.  The  back-drawn  effect  of  her  chest 
nut  tresses,  which  were  still  streaked  here  and  there 
with  s'unny  threads,  could  not  be  doubted  as  charm 
ing  even  by  the  most  prejudiced  caviler.  Her  brow 
and  temples  were  shown  in  their  full  purity  of  mould 
ing,  and  the  eyes  beneath  them  gained  poetic  tender 
ness  from  this  lovely  exposure.  She  was  not  yet  a 
girl  clothed  at  all  after  the  dainty  manner  of  the 
girls  about  her,  but  she  was  at  least  no  longer  spoiled 
and  hampered  by  unbecoming  and  vulgar  garments. 
Everybody  felt  this  promptly,  and  Claire  herself  soon 
recognized,  by  an  intuition  which  always  stood  vassal 
to  her  singularly  quick  perceptions,  that  everybody 
bad  felt  it. 

This  was  to  be  a  memorable  day  with  her.  It  may 
seem  trivial  to  employ  so  august  a  term  when  dealing 
with  one  yet  on  the  threshold  of  our  truly  vital  epi 
sodes,  but,  after  all,  there  is  a  reality  about  the  cha 
grins  and  victories  of  childhood  which  is  none  the  less 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  39 

potent  while  both  exist  because  both  must  shortly 
drop  into  shadow  before  harsher  pangs  and  warmer 
transports.  Claire  had  resolved  to  be  a  kind  of  min 
iature  heroine  if  occasion  should  ask  her  to  play  that 
part;  and  she  had  a  conviction,  based  on  very  fair 
grounds  of  reasoning,  that  some  such  demand  might 
be  made  of  her  before  the  school-exercises  for  that 
day  should  reach  their  end. 

Nor  was  she  wrong.  The  recitations  began,  and 
were  continued  under  various  teachers  until  the 
twelve  o'clock  recess.  Claire  had  suffered  hitherto 
from  the  embarrassments  of  her  surroundings,  as  re 
garded  any  frank  assertion  of  what  she  knew  and  just 
how  she  knew  it.  But  to-day  she  had  conquered  em 
barrassment  ;  she  was  on  her  mettle,  as  the  phrase 
goes ;  it  was  the  main  aim  of  her  meditated  plan  to 
let  herself  be  browbeaten  in  no  particular,  and  the 
excitement  born  of  this  resolve  had  put  her  best  fac 
ulties  into  nimble  readiness. 

Her  understanding  was  of  the  quality  beloved  by 
instructors  ;  it  had  a  prehensile  trait ;  it  seized  things 
and  clung  to  them.  The  alarm  of  Mrs.  Carmichael 
lest  her  pupil  should  unmask  her  elegant  deficiencies 
had  been  no  unfounded  one.  This  lady's  tuition  of 
Claire  had  been  but  a  series  of  suggestions,  each  of 
which  the  girl  had  rapidly  tracked  to  its  lair  of  re 
moter  truth.  Mrs.  Carmichael  had  pointed  her  the 
path  —  quite  often,  it  must  be  owned,  with  a  some 
what  faltering  finger  —  and  she  had  glided  whither  it 
led  at  a  pace  no  less  swift  than  secure.  This  was 
especially  true  of  the  French  language,  for  which  her 
aptitude  was  phenomenal,  and  which,  under  new  con 
ditions  of  instruction,  she  soon  almost  mastered.  As 
a  matter  of  mere  fact,  she  had  been  placed,  at  pres- 


40  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

ent,  among  her  inferiors  in  knowledge.  She  was 
much  more  advanced  than  the  class  of  superb  young 
misses  who  had  wounded  her  with  their  callow  dis 
dain.  And  to-day  she  made  this  tellingly  evident. 
Her  answers  came  placid,  self-assured,  unhesitating. 
She  sat,  all  through  the  morning,  with  hands  folded 
together  in  her  lap,  and  with  looks  that  paid  no  seem- 
in<*  heed  to  any  of  her  associates.  Some  of  them 

O  «- 

were  extremely  stupid.  They  gave  stammering  re 
sponses,  or  rattled  oil  the  wrong  thing  with  fatal 
glibness,  or  preserved  that  stolid  silence  which  is  the 
most  naked  candor  of  ignorance.  The  freckled  girl, 
who  ate  bananas,  cut  an  especially  dull  figure. 
Through  some  novel  freak  of  parental  indulgence,  she 
had  been  permitted  to  wear,  this  morning,  a  ring  of 
clustered  sapphires  and  diamonds,  very  beautiful  and 
precious  ;  and  this  she  turned  and  re-turned,  while 
puckering  her  forehead,  whenever  a  question  was  put 
to  her,  as  though  the  fair  bauble  might  prove  talis- 
manic  and  show  her  some  royal  road  out  of  learning's 
tangled  mazes.  No  one  appeared  to  think  her  replies 
particularly  blundering  or  fatuous.  Her  ring,  and 
her  last  new  Parisian  gown,  and  the  luxurious  pros 
pect  of  her  approaching  lunch,  seemed  to  invest  even 
her  weak  wit  with  prestige.  Claire  felt  it  to  be  some 
how  in  the  air  that  this  maiden's  mental  poverty 
should  receive  nothing  except  respectful  sympathy 
from  her  fellows.  Fortune  does  not  shower  every 
known  gift  on  one  favorite ;  that  seemed  to  be  tacitly 
understood.  When  she  floundered  in  a  French  verb, 
or  came  to  dire  grief  in  compound  fractions,  the  imbe 
cility  provoked  no  laughter ;  it  bore  a  sort  of  gilded 
pardonableness,  like  the  peccadillo  of  a  princess. 
When  recess  carne,  Claire  had  distinguished  her- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  -      41 

self.  Everybody  was  convinced  that  her  powers  of 
mind  were  much  above  the  common.  Two  of  the 
teachers,  both  ladies  of  gentle  bearing  and  kindly 
disposition,  came  to  her  side,  and  cheered  her  with 
a  few  words  of  complimentary  encouragement.  The 
grand  Mrs.  Arcularius  did  not  come ;  she  was  else 
where,  in  her  elegant  little  reception-room  ;  she  had 
not  yet  heard  of  her  new  pupil's  handsome  exploits. 
But  if  she  had  already  heard  of  them  she  would  have 
paid  Claire  no  congratulations.  Good  scholarship,  she 
would  have  argued,  with  splendid  egotism,  was  in  this 
case  a  form  of  gratitude  to  which  she  was  of  course 
amply  entitled,  since  she  had  allowed  Twining  the 
honor  of  seeing  her  autograph  on  his  daughter's  fu 
ture  receipted  bills. 

During  the  first  portion  of  the  recess  hour  Claire 
ate  her  modest  lunch,  choking  it  down  with  strong 
reluctance.  But  one  teacher  now  remained  in  the 
large  class-room,  and  she  was  closely  occupied  in  the 
examination  of  some  written  exercises.  The  girls 
were  gathered  here  and  there,  among  the  files  of  desks, 
in  whispering  groups.  They  were  all  discussing 
Claire  ;  she  herself  knew  it;  an  instinct  told  her  so. 
She  was  very  much  excited,  but  outwardly  quite  calm. 
The  girls  no  longer  stared  at  her ;  not  a  single  giggle 
now  broke  the  air ;  they  had  been  impressed,  startled, 
and  perhaps  a  little  awed  as  well ;  their  pariah  had 
turned  out  a  sort  of  notability ;  she  had  clad  herself 
in  a  sudden  armor  of  cool  defiance  against  impudence. 
They  might  have  regarded  her  lately-revealed  endow 
ments  as  a  queerness  collateral  with  the  eccentric 
quality  of  her  clothing.  But  the  pink  robe,  the  brit 
tle-looking  curls,  the  beflowered  hat,  had  vanished 
and  left  them  no  chance  for  such  associative  ridicule. 


42  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

There  had  been  a  transformation,  abrupt  and  baffling. 
Claire  was  not  going  to  be  their  butt ;  of  this  there 
was  no  doubt ;  she  must  either  be  accepted  as  an 
equal,  or  avoided  as  an  inferior ;  she  could  no  longer 
hold  the  position  of  a  target  for  their  covert  raillery. 

The  freckled  girl,  of  the  sumptuous  mid-day  meal, 
however,  preserved  opposite  opinions.  Her  name 
was  Ada  Gerrard,  and  her  family  was  one  of  great 
wealth  and  distinction.  Her  elder  sister,  a  mindless 
blonde  with  creamy  skin  and  exuberant  figure,  had 
made  a  notable  English  marriage,  having  wedded  no 
less  a  potentate  than  the  young  Marquis  of  Mono 
gram,  heir  of  a  renowned  ducal  house.  Miss  Ada 
was  a  leader  in  her  way,  and  she  felt  keenly  disap 
pointed  by  the  unforeseen  turn  of  affairs.  She  had 
anticipated  prodigious  fun  out  of  the  new  scholar. 
She  was  by  nature  cruel  and  arrogant,  and  she  was 
now  affected  as  some  feline  creature  that  has  been 
cheated  of  the  prey  it  has  meant  to  maul  and  maim. 

Her  reddish-hazel  eyes,  that  showed  so  little  white 
as  to  look  like  t\vo  large  beads  of  clouded  amber, 
and  were  fringed  with  scant  lashes  of  lighter  red,  kept 
up  a  persistent  scrutiny  of  Claire.  She  was  sitting 
not  far  away  from  the  latter,  who  caught,  now  and 
then,  a  waft  of  the  delicate  violet  perfume  which  ex 
haled  from  her  fine  foreign  apparel.  She  was  occu 
pied  with  her  epicurean  repast,  whose  dainties  she 
devoured  with  a  solemn  gluttony  ;  but  this  did  not 
prevent  her  from  keeping  up  a  little  fusillade  of 
whispers  to  a  friend  on  whom  she  had  bestowed  one 
or  two  bites  of  luscious  cake  as  a  mark  of  peculiar 
clemency. 

The  converse  was  at  first  low-toned.  Claire  had 
finished  her  brief  refreshment.  She  had  opened  a 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  43 

book,  and  maintained  at  least  the  semblance  of  being 
engaged  in  its  contents.  Suddenly  she  heard  Ada 
Gerrard  speak  these  words,  in  a  voice  lifted  above 
her  former  key,  though  doubtless  meant  solely  for 
her  companion's  ears  : 

"  I  don't  care  hoiv  much  she  knows.  She  's  a  com 
mon  little  thing,  and  /  would  n't  notice  her  if  she  got 
on  her  knees  and  begged  me  to." 

Claire  waited  a  few  seconds,  with  head  lowered 
above  her  book.  She  trembled  while  she  so  waited. 
The  tremor  was  half  from  anger,  half  from  intimida 
tion.  She  felt,  in  every  fibre  of  her  being,  the  coarse 
ness  of  this  speech,  but  through  her  sensitive  soul 

4  7  O 

had  shot  a  pang  of  false  shame,  dealt  by  the  piercing 
sense  of  contrast  between  her  own  humble  state  and 
the  probable  grandeur  and  comfort  of  life  which  had 
fed  Ada  Gerrard's  present  superciliousness.  But  an 
ger  conquered.  She. ceased  to  tremble,  and  closed 
her  book.  Then  she  rose,  quietly,  and  faced  her 
classmate.  It  may  have  been  that  the  generations 
of  gentlewomen  from  which,  on  her  father's  side,  she 
had  sprung,  helped  to  nerve  and  steady  her. now; 
since  the  primal  source  of  all  aristocracy  is  a  cogent 
self-assertion,  and  those  races  alone  gain  heights  over- 
browing  their  kind  whose  first  founders  have  had  the 
will  and  vigor  to  push  forward  resisted  claims. 

Everybody  s?,w  her  rise.  It  flashed  through  the 
little  throng,  in  an  instant,  that  something  had 
spurred  her  into  a  course  of  retaliation.  At  least 
fifteen  pairs  of  eager  eyes  were  leveled  upon  her 
pale  face.  But  she  regarded  Ada  Gerrard  only  ;  and 
when  she  spoke,  with  enough  clearness  to  be  heard 
in  all  parts  of  the  room,  her  first  words  were  ad 
dressed  strictly  to  that  special  offender. 


44  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

"  You  say  that  you  will  not  notice  me,"  Claire  be 
gan,  "  and  yet  you  say  it  so  loudly  that  I  can  hear 
you,  and  thus  you  very  plainly  contradict  yourself ; 
or,  in  other  words,  you  try  to  attract  my  attention 
by  speaking  a  falsehood." 

Here  she  paused.  A  dead  silence  ensued.  Many 
bewildered  looks  were  exchanged.  The  presiding 
teacher  stopped  her  task,  and  sat  with  a  gaze  of  puz 
zled  alarm  fixed  upon  this  resolute  young  combatant. 
Ada  Gerrard  flushed  crimson,  and  ceased  to  discuss 
her  savory  confections. 

Claire's  voice  quivered  as  she  now  proceeded,  but 
she  quickly  controlled  this  perturbed  sign  :  "  I  do 
not  think  there  is  much  chance  of  my  begging  you 
on  my  knees  to  notice  me,"  she  said.  "  But  I  might 
be  tempted  to  take  such  a  way  of  begging  that  you 
would  try  and  help  me  to  forget,  as  long  as  I  remain 
here,  how  I  have  had  the  ill-luck  of  being  thrown 
near  anyone  so  unkind,  so  impudent,  and  so  vulgar 
as  yourself." 

Ada  Gerrard  sprang  to  her  feet  as  the  last  calm 
word  sounded  from  Claire's  lips.  She  had  clenched 
both  of  her  plump  hands,  and  there  was  a  wrathful 
scowl  on  her  face.  Several  titters  were  heard  from 
her  companions;  they  seemed  to  sting  her;  it  was 
impossible  for  her  to  fail  in  perceiving  that  she  had 
met  an  adversary  of  twice  her  own^  prowess.  She 
knew  to  which  side  the  sympathy  had  veered  ;  all 
her  imposing  superiority  in  the  way  of  dress,  of  diet, 
of  home-splendor,  of  titled  kindred,  were  momenta 
rily  as  nothing  beside  Claire's  placid  antagonism. 
She  was  only  an  ugly  girl  in  an  ugly  rage,  who  had 
behaved  insolently  and  been  rebuked  with  justice  ; 
while  Claire,  pale,  unflinching,  wholly  in  the  right 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  45 

and  wholly  aware  of  it,  her  drawbacks  of  uncouth 
costume  no  longer  present,  her  beauty  a  fact  beyond 
dispute,  her  intelligence  a  recent  discovery  and  a 
sharp  surprise,  stood  clad  with  the  dignity  of  easy 
and  complete  conquest. 

Ada  Gerrard  suddenly  burst  into  tears.  They 
were  very  irate  tears  ;  there  was  not  the  least  tinc 
ture  of  remorse  or  shame  in  them.  She  flung  herself 
back  into  her  chair,  and  covered  her  face  for  several 
minutes  while  she  wept. 

Claire  watched  her,  tranquilly,  for  a  little  while. 
Then  she  sat  down  again  and  reopened  her  book. 
An  intense  silence  reigned,  broken  by  the  sobs  of 
Ada  Gerrard.  Claire  leaned  her  head  on  her  hand, 
feigning  abrupt  absorption  in  the  page  that  she  re 
garded,  and  feigning  it  very  well.  But  her  mind 
was  in  a  secret  whirl,  now.  She  was  mutely,  but 
impetuously  asking  herself  :  "  Will  they  think  I  was 
right?  Will  they  take  my  part?  Will  they  treat 
me  any  more  kindly,  or  just  as  before?  " 

These  silent,  pathetic  queries  were  fated  to  receive 
a  speedy  answer.  Before  the  school  hours  of  that 
same  day  had  ended,  the  ostracism  which  had  so 
wrung  poor  Claire's  spirit  was  in  a  measure  ended 
likewise.  Less  than  a  week  had  elapsed  before  she 
was  on  friendly  terms  with  a  number  of  her  class 
mates.  A  little  adverse  clique  soon  shaped  itself 
against  her.  Ada  Gerrard,  fiercely  unforgiving, 
headed  this  hostile  faction  ;  its  remaining  members 
were  a  few  stanch  personal  adherents  who  had  never 
been  able  to  resist  the  dazzling  fascination  of  Miss 
Gerrard's  toilets  and  lunches.  But  this  opposing  ele 
ment  was  not  actively  inimical.  Claire's  party  had 
the  strength  of  multitude  and  the  courage  of  its  opin- 


46  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

ions.  Still,  its  members  were  by  no  means  ardent 
devotees ;  they  sometimes  hurt  her  with  the  sly  stab 
of  patronage,  and  they  often  gave  her  furtively  to 
understand  that  her  claims  upon  their  favor  were  of 
a  sort  which  they  practically  recognized  without  the 
oretically  approving. 

It  would  be  hard  to  define  just  how  they  conveyed 
this  impression.  And  yet  Claire  frequently  felt  its 
weight,  like  that  of  some  vague  tyranny  which  offers 
no  tangible  excuse  for  revolt.  She  could  neither  re 
alize  nor  estimate  the  force  with  which  she  had  been 
thrown  into  contact.  Pier  years  were  yet  too  few, 
her  experience  was  yet  too  limited  ;  nor  was  the 
force  manifest  in  active  strength  at  Mrs.  Arcularius's 
school,  a  narrow  enough  theatre  for  its  exercise,  and 
one  where  its  full-grown  momentum  must  of  neces 
sity  dwindle  into  something  like  mere  juvenile  par 
ody.  Claire  was  yet  to  learn  with  how  much  rank 
haste  its  evil  growth  had  sprung  up  in  the  big  me 
tropolis  outside,  thwarting  and  clogging  any  pure  de 
velopment  of  what  has  been  called  the  republican 
idea,  and  making  us  sometimes  bitterly  wonder  if 
the  great  dead  philosophers  were  not  tricked,  after 
all,  by  wills-o'-the-wisp  no  less  lovely  than  elusive. 

But  there  were  a  few  girls  who  met  Claire  on  a 
perfectly  equal  footing,  and  left  from  their  inter 
course,  at  all  times,  the  least  frosty  sparkle  of  con 
descension.  Some  of  these  may  or  may  not  con 
sciously  have  undertaken  their  rules.  But  with  one, 
past  doubt,  and  for  excellent  reasons,  the  kindly 
impulse  was  in  every  way  spontaneous.  The  name 
of  this  pnpil  was  Sophia  Bergemann.  She  professed 
a  deep  fondness  for  Claire,  and  it  was  evidently  sin 
cere.  She  belonged  among  Mrs.  Arcularius's  toler- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  47 

ated  plutocrats.  Her  father  was  a  German  brewer 
who  had  made  a  very  large  fortune  out  of  lager-beer, 
and  who  dwelt  in  Hoboken,  where  he  had  built  an 
immense  house  on  spacious  grounds.  It  was  said 
that  the  lawns  were  adorned  with  statues  in  bronze 
and  marble,  and  that  the  main  drawing-room  of  the 
mansion  was  frescoed  with  a  design  representing  Ger 
many  offering  a  tankard  of  foaming  beer  to  Colum 
bia,  in  colossal  sociability.  But  the  latter  statement 
may  have  been  only  the  caustic  invention  of  Sophia's 
foes.  She  was  stoutly  disapproved  by  the  conserva 
tive  element,  and  this  fact  had  helped  to  make  her  so 
warm  a  supporter  of  Claire.  Being  at  daggers  drawn 
with  Ada  Gerrard,  she  naturally  hailed  Claire's  pub 
lic  rebuke  with  rapture,  and  immediately  became  her 
stanch  ally. 

"  I  was  afraid  you  'd  stay  meek  and  mild  right 
straight  along,  just  as  you  began, "she  afterward  con-" 
fessed.  "  Somehow  you  looked  as  if  you  had  n't  got 
any  spunk.  And  I  do  like  spunk.  I  believe  in  it." 
This  article  of  faith  Sophia  had  several  times  frankly 
verified.  She  had  once  pulled  the  ear  of  her  fellow- 
pupil,  and  again  narrowly  escaped  expulsion  by  slap 
ping  another's  face.  She  had  a  buxom  figure,  a 
broad-blown  countenance,  nearly  as  round  as  a  moon 
at  the  full,  solid  cheeks  of  constant  vivid  coloring, 
and  hair  so  yellow  that  its  keen  tint  blent  with  her 
brilliant  complexion  in  producing  the  effect  of  an  ex 
pensive  wax  doll  enlarged  and  animated.  She  was 
drearily  stupid  at  all  her  lessons,  rivaling  Ada  Ger 
rard  as  the  regnant  ignoramus  of  the  academy.  Her 
gestures  were  painfully  awkward  ;  her  walk  was  a 
cumbrous  prance  ;  she  seemed  incapable  of  seating 
herself  without  an  elastic  bounce.  She  grew  very 


48  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

fond  of  Claire,  as  weeks  went  on,  and  gave  her  re 
peated  invitations  to  pass  a  portion  of  the  summer 
holidays  at  the  grand  lioboken  abode. 

But  before  the  summer  holidays  arrived,  Claire 
had  left  Mrs.  Arcularius's  school  for  good.  Twining 
had  awakened  to  one  more  dismayed  perception  of 
having  been  grossly  duped  ;  the  reed  on  which  he 
had  leaned  had  snapped  beneath  him  ;  prompt  re 
trenchments  became  inevitable  ;  his  poor  ventured 
thousands  were  dissolved,  as  a  last  ironical  sort  of 
ingredient,  in  the  worthless  elixir. 

For  a  long  time  his  affairs  stood  miserably  in 
volved.  His  innocent  share  in  a  matter  of  impos 
ture  and  chicanery  was  misconstrued  and  sharply 
censured  by  his  employers.  He  was  discharged  from 
his  clerkship,  and  put  face  to  face  with  the  worst 
threats  of  need.  Mrs.  Twining,  forced  to  resign  her 
briefly-worn  robes  of  ease  for  the  old  garb  of  drudg 
ery,  spared  no  zeal  in  proving  herself  not  to  have 
been  a  false  prophetess  of  disaster. 

"•  I  ain't  a  bit  surprised,"  she  would  declare,  with 
one  of  her  thin,  acid  laughs.  "  Mercy,  no !  Don't 
mind  me.  I  was  prepared  for  it,  Francis.  So  here 
we  are  over  in  Jersey  City,  and  a  pretty  shabby  part 
of  it.  too  !  Oh,  well,  it's  better 'n  keeping  a  peanut- 
stand,  anyhow.  You  '11  bring  me  there,  some  day ; 
you  're  bound  to.  I  ain't  eaten  a  peanut  in  ever  so 
long.  I  'm  saving  my  taste  for  'em." 

Twining  secretly  writhed  under  these  thrusts. 
His  meagre  stock  of  money  was  slipping  from  him 
daily.  But  he  was  still  cheerful.  The  tough  tex 
ture  of  his  optimism  still  refused  to  be  rent.  A  few 
more  years,  and  its  severance  must  come,  warp  and 
woof,  but  as  yet  the  sturdy  fibres  held  good  against 
every  strain. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  49 

He  secured  another  position  at  last.  The  salary, 
smaller  than  before,  was  at  least  regular.  But  the 
quarters  in  Jersey  City,  though  humble  and  re 
stricted,  made  too  strong  an  annual  drain  upon  his 
impoverished  purse.  After  two  years  of  pitiful 
struggle,  the  family  removed  to  Greenpoint.  Claire 
was  then  sixteen.  But  before  this  new  change  oc 
curred,  Twiuing's  evil  genius  had  again  tempted  him, 
and  with  the  usual  malign  result.  He  trusted  a  fel 
low-man  once  more,  and  once  more  he  was  con 
founded.  This  time  it  was  of  necessity  a  much 
smaller  hazard.  Only  three  hundred  dollars  went, 
though  millions  were  of  course  to  be  ultimately  real 
ized.  One  day  a  sallow,  elderly  man,  with  eyes 
bleared  from  dissipation  and  clothes  that  hung  glazed 
round  a  bou}r  figure,  fell  in  with  poor  Twining,  and 
talked  to  him  glibly  about  a  miraculous  patent.  It 
concerned  the  giving  of  signals  on  railroads  by  an 
electrical  process.  It  was  to  effect  a  sublime  security 
against  all  future  accidents  of  travel  by  land.  A  few 
primaiy  steps  were  to  be  taken  before  this  marvel 
should  obtain  the  indorsements  of  eager  capitalists. 
The  sallow  little  man,  in  three  interviews,  during 
which  he  cleverly  contrived  not  to  smell  too  strongly 
of  liquor,  convinced  Twining  that  he  was  a  neglected 
genius.  The  money  was  given  him,  and  a  receipt  for 
it  was  signed  with  a  hand  whose  insecurity  passed  for 
grateful  emotion.  But  this  origin  might  have  been 
ascribed  with  more  truth  to  the  rheumy  moisture  that 
filled  the  recipient's  eyes  when  he  placed  a  plump 
roll  of  bills  within  his  threadbare  waistcoat-pocket. 
Twining  never  saw  him  after  that  eventful  confer 
ence.  He  died  about  three  weeks  later  of  delirium 
treniens  ill  a  city  hospital.  It  was  his  seventh  attack. 


50  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

This  fresh  blow  leveled  Twining.  Neither  his 
wife  nor  his  child  ever  knew  of  it.  But  it  struck 
into  him  a  sort  of  terror  at  himself  from  which  he 
never  recovered.  He  had  trusted  humanity  for  the 
last  time.  He  still  remained  amiable,  genial,  gentle. 
But  despair  had  turned  his  heart  to  lead.  Both 
Claire  and  Mrs.  Twining  saw  the  change,  though  ig 
norant  of  its  cause.  The  Greenpoint  epoch  had  now 
begun. 

In  Jersey  City  Claire  had  been  sent  to  a  public 
school.  Here  she  had  met  genuine  daughters  of  the 
people.  Some  of  them  were  almost  in  rags ;  others 
represented  thrifty  home-surroundings  ;  all  were  very 
different  from  the  sleek  children  of  wealth  and  caste 
whom  she  had  known  at  Mrs.  Arcularius's.  At  first 
she  suffered  torments  of  disgust.  But  by  degrees 
the  slow,  continual  pressure  of  habit  wore  away  the 
edge  of  her  distaste,  as  a  constant  sea-wash  will 
blunt  the  rim  of  a  shell.  She  absorbed  herself  in 
study,  made  rapid  progress,  and  learned  much  that  a 
fashionable  school  would  have  left  untaught. 

Her  fastidiousness  in  a  measure  vanished.  A  good 
Seal  of  the  old  acquired  nicety  stayed,  but  her  age 
was  impressionable,  and  ceaseless  contact  with  rough 
manners  and  crude  opinions  wrought  its  certain  ef 
fect  She  was  now  rubbing  against  taffetas,  and  be 
fore  it  had  been  against  silk.  She  was  hearing  the 
boorish  laugh  and  the  slovenly  idiofn  to-day,  when 
yesterday  she  had  heard  the  mirth  of  culture  and  the 
phrase  of  decorum.  Her  young  life  had  thus  far  been 
a  strange  discord  of  opposing  influences.  She  felt 
this  in  periods  of  half  -  bewildered  retrospect,  and 
sometimes  with  moods  of  passionate  melancholy  as 
well.  The  intense  contrast  of  the  changes  through 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  51 

which  she  had  passed,  disheartened  while  it  stimu 
lated  her.  She  meant  to  try  her  best ;  she  wanted 
with  all  her  energy  to  gain  secure  and  permanent  ele 
vation  ;  she  had  no  intent  of  sitting  down  and  rest 
ing  before  she  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  for  her 
father's  heated  words  of  admonition  and  entreaty  yet 
swept  their  insistent  echo  through  her  spirit. 

But  the  hill  seemed  a  sheer  steep,  defiant  of  any 
foothold.  If  she  was  eager  to  ascend,  loath  to  rest, 
full  of  splendid  activity,  what  mattered  these  favor 
ing  conditions  when  circumstances  turned  them  to 
mockery  ? 

They  were  at  Green  point,  now.  They  had  been 
there  three  years.  Claire  was  nineteen.  Her  school 
days  had  ended.  They  could  no  longer  afford  to 
keep  a  servant;  she  had  to  help  her  mother  in  all 
menial  domestic  offices.  She  had  to  bake,  to  sweep, 
to  wash,  to  sew.  She  hated  the  place  ;  she  hated  the 
life.  But  she  saw  her  father's  hidden  despair,  and  so 
hid  her  own.  More  than  this,  she  trembled  at  cer 
tain  signs  that  his  health  was  failing.  He  would 
have  seizures  of  sudden  weakness  at  morning  or 
night ;  she  feared  to  ask  him  whether  they  also  oc 
curred  when  he  was  absent  at  his  business,  lest  he 
might  suspect  the  acute  nature  of  her  anxiety,  and 
so  acquire  new  cause  for  worriment. 

She  loved  him  more  than  ever.  The  dread  of  his 
loss  would  steal  with  ghastly  intrusion  along  her 
dreams  at  night.  She  thought  of  her  grim,  acrimo 
nious  mother,  and  said  to  herself :  '  If  he  should  die ! 
It  would  be  terrible !  I  should  be  worse  than 
alone  ! '  Every  kiss  that  she  gave  him  took  a  more 
clinging  fondness. 

He  never  spoke  of  his  future.     He  never  spoke  of 


62  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

hers.  She  understood  why.  Each  always  met  the 
other  with  a  smile.  There  was  something  beautiful 
in  their  reciprocal  deceit.  They  heard  the  dead 
leaves  crackle  under  their  footsteps,  but  they  strove 
to  talk  as  if  the  boughs  were  in  bud. 

And  so  the  weeks  went  on.  The  bitterness  of  their 
second  winter  in  Greenpoint  had  now  yielded  to  the 
mildness  of  a  second  spring.  But  the  vernal  change 
brought  no  cheer  to  Claire.  In  the  little  yellowish- 
drab  wooden  house  where  they  dwelt,  with  lumber 
yards  and  sloop-wharves  blocking  all  view  of  the 
river,  with  stupid,  haggling  neighbors  on  either  side 
of  them,  with  ugliness  and  stagnation  and  poverty  at 
armVreach,  was  a  girl  so  weighed  upon  and  crushed 
by  the  stern  arbitraments  of  want,  that  she  often  felt 
herself  as  much  a  captive  as  if  she  could  not  have 
moved  a  limb  without  hearing  the  clank  of  a  cliain. 


IV. 


ONE  afternoon  Claire  said  to  her  mother:  "I  in 
tend  to  take  a  little  holiday.  I  am  going  out  for  a 
walk."  Mrs.  Twining  and  her  daughter  were  in  the 
kitchen  when  this  very  novel  announcement  was 
made.  The  elder  lady  had  just  taken  her  prelimi 
nary  steps  toward  the  getting  of  supper.  She  let  her 
big  knife  remain  bedded  in  the  side  of  a  large,  soggy 
potato  that  she  was  peeling,  and  glanced  up  at  Claire 
with  her  quick  black  eye.  A  long  spiral  of  skin  hung 
from  the  half-pared  vegetable.  It  seemed  to  denote 
with  peculiar  aptness  the  paralyzing  effect  of  Mrs. 
Twining's  astonishment. 

"  Going  to  take  a  holiday,  are  you  ? "  she  ex 
claimed,  with  the  favorite  jerky,  joyless  laugh. 
"  And  what  am  /  going  to  do,  if  you  please  ?  Stay 
at  home,  no  doubt,  and  slave  over  this  stove  till 
supper  's  cooked.  Hey  ?  " 

"  I  cooked  the  supper  yesterday,"  said  Claire,  "  and 
you  vowed  that  everything  I  had  done  was  bad,  and 
that  I  should  never  make  myself  so  smart  again.  I 
recollect  your  exact  words  —  'make  myself  so  smart,' ': 
continued  Claire,  with  cutting  fidelity  of  quotation. 
"  I  would  readily  do  the  whole  cooking  every  after 
noon,  on  Father's  accoivnt.  For  he  likes  the  food 
I  prepare  better  than  he  likes  what  you  prepare. 
There  's  no  doubt  about  that." 


54  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  Oh,  not  a  bit,"  returned  Mrs.  Twining,  who 
could  never  cow  her  daughter  nowadays,  and  avoided 
all  open  skirmishes  with  Claire,  preferring  to  fire  her 
volleys  under  cover  of  ambiguous  sneers,  being  sure 
of  rout  in  any  fair-fought  engagement.  "  Not  a  bit, 
certainly.  When  he  knows  you  've  pottered  away  at 
anything,  he  '11  eat  it  and  smack  his  lips  over  it 
whether  it 's  roasted  to  a  cinder,  or  as  raw  as  a  fresh 
clam." 

"  I  'm  very  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  returned 
Claire,  with  a  weary  little  smile.  "  It  's  pleasant  to 
think  Father  loves  me  like  that." 

Mrs.  Twining  vigorously  resumed  work  on  her  po 
tato,  speaking  at  the  same  time.  "  Pity  about  both 
o'  you  two,  I  do  declare,"  she  retorted,  lapsing  into 
the  vernacular  with  which  she  loved  to  accompany 
her  worst  gibes.  "  'Pears  to  me  that  if  he 's  so  fond 
o'  you  he  might  n't  have  made  you  the  poor  mean 
fag  at  nineteen  that  he  's  made  o'  me  at  forty-four ; 
and  if  you  are  so  fond  o'  him,  why,  you  might  try 
and  catch  a  decent  husband,  with  a  few  dollars  in  Ms 
pocket,  to  raise  up  the  family  out  o'  the  mud  and 
muck  Francis  Twining  's  got  it  in." 

Claire's  eyes  flashed  a  little;  but  she  was  not  spe 
cially  angered  ;  she  was  so  used  to  this  kind  of  verbal 
savagery. 

"  Father  never  meant  anything  but  good  to  either 
of  us,"  she  said,  "  and  you  know  it.  I  don't  want  to 
hear  you  speak  against  him  when  he  is  away  and 
can't  defend  himself,  /am  able  to  defend  him,  ii  I 
choose.  I  think  you  know  that,  Mother,  by  this  time. 
I  'm  going  out,  as  I  told  you.  I  shall  be  back  rather 
soon,  I  suppose." 

She  left  the  kitchen,  and  presently  the  house  as 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  55 

well.  She  might  have  stayed  to  wrangle ;  but  she 
knew  that  would  be  for  no  purpose.  She  had  stood 
up  for  her  loved  father  so  often,  and  always  with  the 
same  results.  Her  wit  was  quicker  than  her  moth 
er's  ;  it  could  thrust  deeper  and  parry  more  dexter 
ously  ;  but  she  was  very  tired  of  this  aimless  warfare, 
where  she  got  wounds  that  she  hid  and  gave  wounds 
that  it  cost  her  only  pain  to  deal.  She  had  no  defi 
nite  idea  whither  she  would  go,  on  quitting  the 
house.  At  first  she  took  her  way  through  the  cheap 
and  vulgar  main  street  of  Greenpoint.  It  was  the 
first  real  day  of  Spring ;  the  air  was  bland  ;  some 
thing  had  called  her  forth  to  breathe  it,  even  here  in 
this  dreary  spot.  She  did  not  quite  know  whence 
the  silent  summons  had  come.  She  was  by  no  means 
sure  if  it  were  her  own  youth  that  had  called  her,  con 
spiring  in  some  subtile  way  with  the  push  of  leaves 
and  grasses  out  toward  the  strengthened  sunshine. 
She  had  felt  old  and  tired,  of  late  ;  the  monotony  of 
toil  had  dulled  her  spirits ;  her  mother's  arrowy  slurs 
had  pierced  and  hurt  her  more  than  she  guessed. 
But  the  mild  atmosphere,  stirred  by  tender  breezes, 
made  it  pleasant  to  be  abroad,  even  in  this  malodor 
ous  thoroughfare. 

Everything  was  dull  and  common.  It  seemed  a 
sort  of  beautiful  outrage  that  the  pure,  misty  blue 
of  the  afternoon  sky  should  arch  so  contentedly  over 
these  slimy  gutters,  shabby  tenements,  dirty  children, 
and  neglected  sidewalks.  A  German  woman  jostled 
against  her  as  she  pressed  onward  ;  the  woman  carried 
a  pail  of  liquid  refuse,  and  issued  from  a  near  door 
way.  She  had  a  tawdry  red  bow  at  her  throat,  one 
or  two  smaller  bows  to  match  it  in  her  tossed  blonde 
hair,  and  an  immense  flat  water-curl  glued  against 


56  4 AT  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

either  temple,  with  the  effect  of  some  old  hieroglyph. 
She  was  a  beer-seller's  wife,  and  she  was  about  to 
empty  her  vessel  of  stale  malt  upon  the  neighboring 
cobble-stones.  But  the  random  speed  of  her  gait 
caused  her  to  collide  abruptly  with  Claire's  passing 
figure,  and  some  of  the  contents  of  her  pail  shot  out 
upon  the  latter's  dress,  making  an  instant  stain. 
Claire  paused,  and  looked  at  the  woman  with  a  slight 
annoyed  motion  of  the  head.  The  offender  was  a 
high-tempered  person  ;  it  was  currently  whispered  by 
members  of  their  special  Teuton  clique  that  her  hus 
band  was  a  rank  socialist  who  had  been  forced  to  fly 
the  police  of  his  native  town  overseas,  and  that  she 
shared  in  secret  his  rebellious  opinions.  This  may  or 
may  not  have  been  truth ;  but  the  woman  flung  her 
pailful  fiercely  into  the  street,  and  then  as  fiercely 
confronted  Claire. 

"Veil,  vat  you  got  to  say?"  she  cried,  shrilly. 
"  You  looks  at  me  as  if  I  vass  to  blame  for  you  run 
ning  against  me,  ain't  it?  I  see  you  before.  You 
ain't  much,  annerhow.  You  got  a  big  lot  uf  airs ; 
you  valks  shust  like  a  grant  laty."  Here  the  virago 
dropped  her  pail,  set  a  hand  on  either  hip,  and  at 
tempted,  with  sad  lack  of  success,  while  two  long, 
tarnished  ear-rings  oscillated  in  her  big,  ilushrd  cars, 
to  imitate  Claire's  really  graceful  walk.  "  Sho,"  she 
continued,  in  sarcastic  explanation  of  her  parody. 
"  You  valks  jush  sho  !  Bud  you  ain't  much.  You 
ain't  no  laty.  You  better  stop  ride  avay  treing  to 
be  one.  Dot 's  too  thin,  dot  iss.  Aha,  you  're  off. 
I  t'ought  I  'd  freiden  you  !  " 

Claire  was  indeed  "off,"  and  moving  somewhat 
briskly,  too.  She  had  grown  rather  white.  This 
rude  encounter  left  a  harsh  memory  behind  it.  For 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  57 

some  time  she  could  not  dissipate  the  recollection  of 
the  German  jade's  insolence. 

"  Perhaps  she  was  right,"  her  set  lips  at  length 
murmured.  "  I  am  not  a  lady.  I  had  better  stop 
right  away  trying  to  be  one." 

A  little  later  she  had  quitted  the  main  street  of  the 
town,  and  gained  an  open  expanse  at  whose  verge 
the  houses  stood  with  wide  gaps  between  them,  as 
though  a  forlorn  effort  had  been  made  to  conquer 
vacancy  by  ugliness.  But  vacancy  had  won  the  fight; 
space  never  resisted  time  with  more  complete  con 
quest.  An  immense  drab  plain,  shorn  of  the  least 
green  feature,  now  stretched  before  Claire's  gaze.  On 
one  hand,  like  a  slow,  interminable  snake,  wound  a 
black  thread  of  slimy  creek,  flanked  by  ragged  em 
bankments  of  crumbling  clay.  On  the  other  hand 
was  a  dull,  bare  sweep,  unrelieved  by  even  a  single 
hut.  Far  to  the  eastward,  facing  Claire,  gleamed  a 
wide  assemblage  of  cottages ;  this  was  a  settlement 
that  some  wag  or  optimist,  whichever  he  may  have 
been,  had  long  ago  named  Blissville. 

Claire  had  a  fanciful  thought,  now,  as  she  walked 
along  the  hard  macadamized  road  which  the  incessant 
trains  of  funerals  took  toward  Calvary,  that  Bliss 
ville,  seen  so  distantly  at  the  end  of  this  treeless, 
herbless  waste,  was  like  the  mirage  glimpsed  by  a 
wanderer  on  a  desert.  But  she  might  more  aptly 
have  compared  the  lonely  desolation  which  encom 
passed  her  to  those  classic  fields  where  the  Greek  and 
Roman  dead  found  their  reputed  bourne.  The  shock 
ing  creek  would  have  made  an  excellent  Styx,  and 
even  the  most  barren  imagination  could  have  traced 
ready  analogy  between  these  monotonous  levels  of 

*'  ~  \j 

sun-baked  mud  and  the  flowerless  lands  where  dis 
consolate  shades  were  supposed  to  wander. 


58  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

The  tender  amethyst  sky,  arching  over  this  hideous 
spot,  alone  saved  it,  to-day,  from  the  last  sort  of  in 
fernal  suggestiveness.  An  enormous  funeral  pres 
ently  appeared  in  sight,  just  as  Claire  reached  a 
certain  uncouth  bridge  that  spanned  a  curve  of  the 
impure  current.  The  slow  procession  of  dark  car 
riages  uncoiled  itself,  so  to  speak,  from  the  massed 
habitations  of  Greenpoint,  and  drew  gradually  nearer 
without  yet  revealing  its  final  vehicle.  It  was  a  mor 
tuary  cavalcade  of  phenomenal  length,  even  for  the 
present  place,  where  New  York  quite  often  sends 
some  of  her  worst  reprobates  to  their  graves  under 
conditions  of  the  most  imposing  solemnity.  The 
whole  retinue  was  at  last  unfurled  upon  the  smooth 
roadway,  along  which  it  crawled  with  something  of 
the  same  serpentine  stealthiness  as  that  of  the  almost 
parallel  creek.  A  sombre  rivalry  seemed  evident, 
now,  between  the  two  differing  streams.  This  blank 
tract  of  repulsive  land,  so  strangely  dedicated  to 
death,  had  lost  every  hint  of  Lethean  likeness.  The 
arrival  of  the  funeral  had  wrought  striking  change. 
Here  we  had  the  modern  mode  of  dealing  with  death. 
It  seemed  to  make  paganism  wither  and  vanish.  An 
old,  half-rotten  barge,  moored  in  a  slushy  cove,  might 
have  served  for  an  emblem  of  the  decay  and  con 
tempt  now  fallen  upon  antique  legend.  Was  this 
the  melancholy  boat  that  once  ferried  the  ghosts  to 
Hades  ?  Ah  !  but  if  so,  the  oars  were  lost,  the  planks 
leaked  wofully,  and  the  grim  pilot  had  gone  perma 
nently  away  into  the  great  shadow-land  of  all  the 
dead  gods  !  Claire  looked  toward  the  coming  funeral, 
and  shuddered  in  silence.  There  seemed  so  unholy 
a  contrast  between  her  own  fresh,  vital  maidenhood 
and  this  ghastly,  morbid  domain.  How  had  her 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  59 

healthful  young  spirit  ever  courted  death,  that  it 
should  thus  force  upon  her  its  continual  grisly  fel 
lowship?  She  placed  both  elbows  on  the  rough  bal 
ustrade  of  the  bridge,  leaned  her  fair  gu-lish  chin 
against  both  hands,  and  stared  straight  before  her 
across  the  bleak  heath.  Not  far  off  several  venture 
some  swine  were  waddling;  they  were  near  enough 
for  their  absurd  grunts  now  and  then  to  reach  her, 
and  for  her  to  see  the  pink  flush  of  their  cumbrous 
bodies  between  coarse,  soiled  hairs,  and  the  earthward 
thrust  of  their  long,  gray,  cylindrical  noses.  But  a 
moment  later  a  flock  of  pigeons  suddenly  lighted  just 
at  the  foot  of  the  bridge,  on  a  little  loamy  flat.  The 
sight  gave  her  a  thrill  of  pleasure.  It  was  so  odd  to 
get  any  bit  of  beauty  here,  and  each  bird  was  a  true 
bit  of  beauty,  with  its  flexible  irised  neck,  its  rounded 
sleekness,  and  its  rosy  feet.  Presently  the  flock  be 
gan  their  rich  peculiar  coo,  and  the  sound  fascinated 
Claire  as  much  as  their  shapes  had  done.  She  quite 
forgot  the  advancing  funeral ;  here  were  color,  grace, 
and  a  sort  of  music.  They  had  fallen  to  her,  as 
might  be  said,  from  the  skies.  In  a  dumb,  unformu- 
lated  way  she  wished  that  more  of  all  three  charms 
would  so  fall  to  her.  It  was  such  a  wretched  doom  to 
dwell  in  this  abominable  suburb.  All  her  youth  was 
being  wasted  here.  She  was  already  getting  rather 
old.  She  was  already  nearly  twenty —  four  months 
of  her  twentieth  year  had  gone  —  and  she  had  been 
accustomed  to  think  people  quite  old  when  they  were 
twenty.  Would  it  last  years  longer  ?  Ah  !  to  fly  as 
those  lovely  birds  could  !  Why  had  they  come  hither, 
of  all  places  in  the  world?  If  she  were  a  green-and- 
purple  thing,  with  strong  wings,  like  any  of  them, 
she  would  soar  away  to  the  window  of  some  rich 


60  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

lady's  house  on  Fifth  Avenue,  and  be  taken  inside 
some  handsome  chamber,  perhaps,  and  fed  and  petted 
—  yes,  even  put  into  a  cage,  if  the  lady  chose.  A 
cage  there  would  be  better  than  one's  full  freedom 
here,  where  the  dead  were  always  going  to  their 
graves. 

From  a  reverie  which  may  or  may  not  have  re 
sembled  this  if  it  had  been  made  into  actual  lan 
guage,  the  sudden  spontaneous  flight  of  the  whole 
charming  flock  roused  poor  ruminative  Claire.  She 
now  perceived  that  the  funeral  train  had  drawn 
much  nearer.  A  sort  of  metallic  resonance  sounded 
from  the  many  horse-hooves  on  the  hard  surface  of 
the  road.  But  another  sound,  at  this  point,  turned 
her  attention  elsewhere.  It  was  a  cracked,  thin,  pip 
ing  voice,  and  its  utterances  were  delivered  only  a 
short  distance  from  her  side.  She  discovered  that  an 
old  man  had  joined  her  on  the  bridge  during  her  ab 
sorbed  preoccupation  witli  the  pigeons.  He  was  a 
very  old  man  ;  he  leant  on  a  staff,  and  was  clad  in  an 
evident  holiday-attire  of  black,  whose  rusty  broad 
cloth  hung  about  his  shrunken  shape  with  tell-tale 
looseness ;  it  had  too  evidently  been  cut  for  a  far 
more  portly  person.  He  had  a  wrinkled  face,  and 
yet  one  of  rubicund  plumpness;  a  spot  of  red  flushed 
each  cheek,  centring  in  a  little  crimson  net-work  of 
veins  there,  while  the  same  peculiarity  cropped  out 
a  third  time,  as  it  were,  on  the  ball-like  lump  at  the 
end  of  his  irregular  nose.  Claire  had  a  feeling,  as 
she  looked  at  him,  that  he  was  a  reformed  toper. 
Everything  about  him  told  of  present  sobriety,  but 
he  was  like  a  colored  lantern  seen  without  the  illumi 
native  candle;  you  had  a  latent  certainty,  as  you 
regarded  him,  that  only  a  few  glasses  of  sufficiently 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  01 

bad  liquor  were  needed  to  warm  up  those  three  red 
spots  into  their  old  auroral  splendor.  While  speak 
ing,  he  put  forth  a  brown  hand  that  trembled  a  good 
deal.  The  tremor  came,  no  doubt,  from  senile  feeble 
ness,  and  the  hand  was  so  gnarled  and  knotty  that  it 
miirht  almost  have  been  one  of  those  rough  exeres- 

o  o 

cences  which  sometimes  bulge  from  tree-trunks,  in 
stead  of  the  sad  rheumatic  member  that  it  really  was. 
The  new-comer  spoke  wiih  an  extremely  strong  Irish 
accent,  and  in  a  hollow,  husky  voice  that  implied, 
on  first  hearing  it,  a  kind  of  elfiu  and  subterranean 
origin. 

"  Begorra,  ma'am,  here  it  is,  ma'am  !  I  'm  allndin' 
to  the  funeral,  ma' a.m.  Shure  I  made  th'  ould  woman 
dresh  me  up  in  mee  besht  clothes  thish  day,  ma'am, 
so  I  did.  Fur  it 's  Mishter  Bairned  McCafferty  that 's 
to  be  buried  thish  day,  I  sez,  ma'am,  sez  I  to  th'  ould 
woman,  I  sez,  an'  sez  I,  ever  since  I  haird  lie  was  n't 
expected,  I  sez,  it's  his  wake  I  wants  to  be  goin'  to. 
An'  if  I  wus  too  ould,  I  sez,  to  crossh  over  an'  pay 
mee  respechts  when  they  wraked  him  in  the  city,  sez 
I,  it'll  be  meeself,  I  sez,  that'll  shtand  here  an'  watch 
'em  parade  'im  to  Calvary,  ma'am,  sez  I." 

Claire  had  a  pity  for  the  old  man,  at  first.  But 
before  his  speech  ended  he  had  roused  in  her  a  repul 
sion.  He  appeared  quietly  hilarious  ;  he  had  pro 
duced  several  distinct  chuckles,  and  his  watery,  peer 
ing  eyes,  which  one  of  his  misshapen  hands  soon 
shaded,  revealed  an  actually  gay  twinkle. 

"•  I  don't  sec  why  you  wanted  to  come  out  and 
watch  the  person  go  to  his  grave,"  said  Claire. 
"What  pleasure  can  that  possibly  give  you?" 

"Pleasure,  ma'am,  is  it,  ma'am?"  was  the  startled 
response.  "Why,  shure,  ina'am,  it's  the  foinest  fu- 


62  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

neral  that's  been  seen  in  these  parts,  ma'am,  fur 
nianny  a  day  !  An'  it 's  mee  u\vn  son,  Larry,  that 's 
driviu'  the  hairse,  ye '11  understand,  ma'am,  an'  it's 
a  proud  day  for  Larry,  so  it  is.  Excuse  me,  ma'am, 
but  do  ye  take  sight  o'  the  hairse  yet  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes;  very  well,"  said  Claire.  "It  has  a 
number  of  wooden  ornaments  along  its  top,  that  are 
gilded  and  look  like  large  black  cabbages.''  She 
gave  a  little  burst  of  weary  laughter  as  she  finished 
the  last  sentence,  whose  irony  was  quite  lost  on  her 
dim-sighted  companion.  "  And  its  sides  are  glass," 
she  continued,  "•  and  you  can  see  the  large  coffin 
within  quite  plainly,  and  there  are  four  horses  with 
white  and  black  plumes." 

"An'  —  an' — the  carriages,  ma'am,  if  ye  plaise, 
ma'am  ?  "  eagerly  questioned  the  old  man.  kt  Shure 
there  should  be  forty  if  there  's  wan,  ma'am,  an'  a 
few  loight  wagons  thrown  in  behoind  as  well.  How  's 
that,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  I  think  there  must  be  forty,"  said  Claire,  turning 
a  curious  look  on  the  questioner,  as  he  bent  excitedly 
forward  to  hear  her  answer.  "  And  there  are  several 
lifjht  wagons,  also." 

O  O 

The  old  man  rubbed  his  weird  hands  together  in 
gleeful  ecstasy,  nearly  toppling  over  as  .he  did  so,  be 
cause  the  act  necessitated  a  transient  disregard  of  the 
needful  prop  lent  by  his  staff.  "  Shure  I  towld  th' 
ould  woman  jusht  that !  "  he  cried,  in  great  triumph. 
"  Shure  I  sez  to  her,  sez  I,  Barney  McCafferty  's  too 
daicent  a  man,  I  sez,  to  go  to  his  grave,  sez  I,  anny 
less  dale-enter  nor  that,  I  sez.  It  '11  be  forty  car 
riages,  I  sez,  if  it's  wan.  An'  there'll  be  a  shport 
or  so,  sez  I  to  her,  ma'am  (bee  thisli  shtick  in  mee 
hand,  ma'am,  I  sed  it,  ma'am  !)  there  '11  be  a  shport 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  63 

or  so  that  '11  bring  a  buggy  or  so,  sez  I,  for  a  woind 
up  at  the  end,  I  sez,  like  the  laugh  that  comes,  ye 
mind,  at  the  tail  of  a  joke,  I  sez.  An'  it's  you  I'm 
thankful  to,  ma'am,  fur  the  loan  o'  your  two  broight 
eyes,  ma'am,  that  lets  me  see  the  soiglit  that  God's 
denied  me,  ma'am  :  an'  I  mean,  wid  a  blessin'  to  yer, 
the  slityle  o'  the  hairse  an'  the  gineral  natur  o'  the 
intertainmint  altogether,  ma'am,  the  Lord  love  yer 
fur  yer  frindly  assistance  !  " 

"  Perhaps  you  can  see  the  funeral  better  when  it 
gets  in  front  of  the  bridge,"  said  Claire,  somewhat 
kindly,  but  with  a  shocked  sense  still  remaining. 
Her  varied  past,  that  had  shown  her  so  many  differ 
ing  human  phases,  had  not  till  now  presented  to  her 
the  extraordinary  fact  of  how  positively  festal  are 
the  associations  with  which  the  Irish,  as  our  shores 
find  them,  are  wont  to  accompany  death.  At  the 
same  time,  she  felt  interested,  and  rather  curious. 
She  could  always  manage,  on  brief  notice,  to  feel  in 
terested  and  curious  regarding  any  fellow-creature  ; 
and  this  trait  (one  that  has  grown  historic  among  the 
most  noted  charmers  of  her  own  sex)  was  now  tested 
to  perhaps  its  last  limits. 

"  Does  your  son  always  drive  hearses  ?  "  she  con 
tinued,  unconsciously  looking  at  the  old  man  as  if  he 
were  something  in  a  museum,  to  be  marveled  at  for 
antiquity  and  strangeness,  but  not,  on  pain  of  expul 
sion,  to  be  touched. 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am.  Larry's  wan  o'  the  hands  to  a 
livery  shtable,  ma'am  ;  but  yer  see,  ma'am,  he  's  tim- 
perance,  an'  so  they  gives  'im  the  hairse  at  mosht  o' 
the  high-toned  funerals,  bekase  they're  shure,  then, 
that  there  '11  be  no  dishrespect  showed  to  the  corpse, 
y'  imdershtand.  An'  it  's  always  the  behavior  o'  the 


64  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

hairse  that 's  moslit  crnticizod,  fur  if  that  goes  an' 
comes  quiet,  \vid  no  singin'  nur  shkylarkiu'  on  the 
part  o'  him  that  drives  it,  d'  y'  undershtand,  why 
there  's  lesh  talk  inn-  if  all  the  mourners  an'  rela- 
shnns  should  come  home  shtavin'  drunk,  ma'am,  d' 
ye  mind  ?  " 

"And  who  is  this  Bernard  McCafferty?"  asked 
Claire. 

"  Is  it  Barney  McCafferty  that  ye  're  ashkin' 
about  ? "  was  the  old  man's  amazed  response,  a 
sharp  falsetto  note  piercing  through  his  usual  huski- 
ness.  "Why,  shure,  ma'am,  he  run  six  places  acrosh 
in  the  city  fur  tin  year  all  to  wanst,  so  he  did,  an' 
that  ain't  countin'  the  wan  he  kep'  in  Harlem,  nay- 
tlmr." 

This  explanation  was  delivered  with  an  air  of  as 
tonished  rebuke,  as  though  one  should  enumerate  the 
possessions  of  some  slighted  prince. 

"  What  sorts  of  places  do  you  mean  ?  "  inquired 
Claire. 

The  old  man  put  his  head  on  one  side  and  looked 
at  her  with  uneasy  suspicion,  as  though  ho  feared  she 
was  making  sport  of  him. 

"Places?     Why,  liquor-sthores,  to  be  sure." 

"  Oh,"  said  Claire.  "  And  what  did  he  die  of  ? 
Drink  ?  " 

Her  companion  brightened  noticeably,  and  seemed 
to  gain  confidence  in  his  questioner.  He  scratched 
one  cheek,  where  the  unshorn  beard  showed  in  white, 
bristly  patches  along  the  fleshless  jaw,  and  winked 
at  Claire  as  though  she  had  at  once  put  the  matter 
upon  a  basis  of  mutual  and  intimate  comprehension. 

"  I  guess  it  wus  the  drink  ash  laid  Mm  out  at  lasht, 
ma'am.  Manny  is  the  good  glass  I  had  wid  Barney 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  65 

afore  he  went  into  politics  an'  got  shut  of  his  besht 
f rinds,  bad  luck  to  'irn.  But  he  shtbod  well  up  to 
his  liquor  fur  nigh  forty  year,  though  I'm  thinkin' 
it  fetched  Mm  in  the  end,  ma'am." 

This  was  said  with  the  manner  and  tone  of  a  per 
son  who  might  have  alluded  to  some  rather  genteel 
foible  in  the  deceased,  like  a  fondness  for  chess  or 
whist.  Claire  found  herself  confronting  another  fact 
in  the  lower  Irish  nature,  hitherto  but  half  surmised  : 
the  enormous  indulgence  and  sympathetic  tolerance 
with  which  this  unique  race  regards  every  form  and 
feature,  of  drunkenness. 

"  If  he  sold  liquor  all  his  life  and  died  of  it  him 
self,"  she  exclaimed,  with  heat  and  force,  "  he 
does  n't  deserve  to  have  half  so  large  a  funeral.  And 
I  think  it  :s  dreadful,"  she  wont  on,  with  a  little 
angry  stamp  of  the  foot,  while  she  lifted  one  finger 
and  shook  it  at  the  old  man  in  a  way  with  which 
her  sex  had  doubtless  familiarized  him  at  an  earlier 
stage  in  his  long  career  —  "yes,  I  think  it's  perfectly 
horrible  that  you  people  should  ever  dare  to  get 
drunk  at  funerals  as  you  do !  I  often  see  the  car 
riage-loads  come  back  from  the  cemetery  through 
Greenpoint,  laughing  and  smoking,  and  sometimes 
yelling  and  swearing  as  well !  Oh,  I  don't  know 
how  you  can  do  it !  There  is  something  so  grand,  so 
terrible  about  death  !  You  ought  to  be  ashamed,  all 
of  you!  Such  actions  make  this  place  more  sad  and 
wretched  than  it  really  is.  It  is  a  miserable  place 
enough,  Heaven  knows  !  " 

She  moved  away  from  the  old  man  as  she  spoke 
the  last  sentence.  Going  forth  upon  the  road,  she 
retraced  her  steps  in  the  direction  of  the  town,  and 
thus  met  each  separate  vehicle  of  the  long  funeral  as 

5 


66  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

it  stole  laggingly  onward.  First  came  the  black-and- 
gilt  hearse,  flaunting  its  interior  coffin  with  horrid 
ostentation,  as  though  it  wanted  you  to  see  how 
many  wreaths  and  crosses  had  been  lavished  upon 
the  remains  of  Mr.  McCafferty  by  his  bereaved  con 
stituents.  Then  followed  a  carriage  to  whose  driver 
had  been  confided  a  capacious  wooden  box  which 
would  doubtless  receive  the  cofh'n  before  its  inter 
ment,  and  into  which  the  driver,  having  placed  its 
glaring  un painted  mass  on  a  line  with  the  dash 
board,  had  thrust  his  feet,  and  by  the  act  engulfed, 
as  it  were,  nearly  half  his  person.  lie  was  a  man  of 
sallow,  cadaverous  visage  and  very  gaunt  frame  ;  he 
looked  as  if  he  might  possess  some  eerie  fellowship 
with  the  corpse  itself  ;  he  seemed  to  alter  the  popu 
lar  phrase  about  having  a  foot  in  the  grave,  and  to 
make  it  quite  thinkable  that  life  could  exist  under 
still  more  moribund  conditions.  In  the  conveyance 
which  he  drove  was  a  group  of  four  people.  Two  of 
them  were  stout  Irishwomen,  swathed  in  crape,  and 
two  were  middle-aged  Irishmen,  dressed  with  a  holi 
day  smartness.  In  this  vehicle  silence  appeared  to 
reign  ;  its  occupants,  all  four,  sat  with  lowered  eyes. 
But  in  the  other  carriages,  as  one  by  one  passed 
Claire,  not  a  sign  of  grief  was  manifest.  There  was 
a  good  deal  of  audible  conversation  ;  there  was  con 
siderable  leaning  of  heads  out  of  windows  ;  there 
were  not  a  few  querulous  children  of  various  ages, 
some  of  whom  had  been  given  oranges  to  suck  or 
sticks  of  striped  candy  to  munch  ;  there  were  buxom 
women  and  spare  women,  massive  men  and  slim  men, 
little  girls  and  little  boys,  all  huddled  together,  quite 
often  three  or  even  more  on  a  seat.  But  in  the 
whole  long  panorama  of  human  visages,  as  it  glided 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  67 

past  her,  Claire  could  not  discern  a  single  trace  of 
solemnity.  The  impression  of  mere  hollow  and  sense 
less  form  was  produced,  by  this  crude  cortege,  with 
complete  and  dismal  success.  Nobody  —  with  the 
slight  exceptions  recorded  —  seemed  to  be  sorry  that 
.Mr.  McCalTerty  had  made  a  permanent  departure 
from  the  liquor-business, 

"I  wonder  why  they  come,  if  they  are  not  sorry," 
Claire  said  to  herself,  as  she  reentered  the  town, 
leaving  the  great  serpentine  funeral  behind  her.  "I 
suppose  it  is  because  of  the  ride.  They  seize  on  even 
this  grim  excuse  for  getting  a  little  pastime."  .  .  . 
Then  her  thoughts  took  a  new,  self-questioning  turn. 
"  And  what  reason  have  I  to  pity  them  and  call 
them  'poor1?  They  come  hero  only  in  the  way  of 
holiday,  but,  I  never  get  a  glimpse  of  anything  better 
or  worse,  month  after  month.  I  dare  say  there  are 
worse  places  than  this.  I  should  like  to  see  one,  if 
there  really  are,  just  for  the  change." 

Passing  back  through  the  unlovely  streets  again, 
Claire  had  a  desire  to  be  near  the  water  before  she 
returned  in -doors.  She  now  regretted  not  having 
gone  thither  at  first,  instead  of  taking  her  dolorous 
inland  walk.  It  was  nearly  sunset;  the  twilight 
had  not  yet  learned  to  loiter,  as  it  does  in  maturer 
Spring,  and  a  gloom  had  already  crept,  with  pur 
plish  effect,  into  the  sweet  pale  azure  of  the  heavens. 
Claire  made  as  short  a  cut* toward  one  special  place 
at  the  water's  edge  as  her  regretted  familiarity  with 
Greenpoint  would  permit,  and  presently  stood  on  a 
raised  spot  close  beside  the  river.  It  was  a  bare 
scarp  of  earth,  touched  faintly,  here  and  there,  with 
the  most  meagre  intervals  of  struggling  green.  Its 
site  commanded  the  delightful  view  beyond,  and  now, 


68  .4AT  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

at  the  ruddy  but  transient  advent  of  evening,  this 
view  was  peculiarly  delightful.  You  saw  the  wrin 
kled  river,  drab  and  tremulous,  under  a  stretch  of 
sky  which  the  sinking  sun  had  made  from  verge  to 
zenith  a  turmoil  of  little  rosy  and  feathery  clouds. 
Each  cloud  had  the  damask  glow,  without  its  fleet- 
ness,  that  we  see  in  the  scales  of  a  darting  trout. 
The  whole  ember-colored  array  arched  over  the  wide 
stream  in  brief,  unusual  brilliancy,  and  stole  now 
and  then  from  the  gray  waves  beneath  it  a  slight 
gleam,  no  larger  than  the  bud  of  a  carnation,  but 
quite  as  rich-hued.  Just  beneath  Claire  was  a  low, 
uncouth,  many -patched  hut,  near  to  the  muddy 
strand,  and  looking  not  unlike  something  that  had 

'  O  O 

drifted  up  from  aqueous  recesses  with  the  intent  of 
making  itself  habitable  for  men.  A  ragged  contiiru- 

o  oo  o 

ous  wharf  had  been  built  here,  at  whose  edge,  when 
summer  came,  small  boats  would  be  grouped  to  let. 
A  little  northward,  great  yellowish  piles  of  lumber 
loomed,  tier  after  tier,  with  big  sloops  moored  beside 
them,  and  with  one  acute  red  pennon,  on  one  slim 
mast,  blown  out  bright  against  the  darkening  air. 
Steamboats  and  sail  -  boats  were  slipping  over  the 
ruffled  river,  those  urged  by  their  steady  mechanic 
push,  those  winning  the  capricious  breeze  to  favor 
their  full -stretched  canvas.  Beyond,  in  dusky,  ir 
regular  semicircle,  lay  the  opposite  city.  Its  many 
church-spires  pierced  the  dimness,  but  all  its  other 
traits  of  architecture,  viewed  at  this  distance,  had  a 
flat,  massed  look.  There  was  something  symbolic  in 
the  isolated  saliency  of  these  spires  ;  they  seemed  to 
typify  the  permanence  of  a  faith  which  had  already 
defied  centuries.  But  still  more,  their  vague  group 
merged  every  detail  of  creed  into  one  pictorial  whole; 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  69 

you  forgot,  as  you  gazed,  what  various  paths  toward 
salvation  this  or  that  steeple  might  be  supposed  to 
point.  The  whole  effect  was  simply  and  powerfully 
Christian. 

Claire  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  shadowy  city.  A 
few  early  lights  already  dotted  its  expanse  with  gold, 
as  if  to  outspeed  the  tardier  stars  overhead.  It 
spread  away,  for  the  gaze  that  watched  it,  like  a 
huge  realm  of  fascinating  mystery.  Claire  forgot 
how  much  sin  it  hid  ;  perhaps  she  scarcely  knew  if 
it  hid  any.  She  thought  only  of  the  diversions,  re 
laxations,  festivities  that  would  soon  hold  sway  there. 
Odd  memories  of  her  old  school-fellows  crossed  her 
mind.  Doubtless  Ada  Gerrard  was  there  now,  think 
ing  of  some  new  robe  in  which  she  would  show  her 
plump  white  neck  with  the  little  freckles  on  it,  that 
very  evening.  It  should  be  a  pale-blue  dress,  Claire 
decided  ;  that  would  suit  Ada's  red  hair  the  best. 
How  full  was  the  big  city,  yonder,  of  happy,  hand 
some,  prosperous  people  !  And  so  many  of  them 
were  saying,  now  that  the  nightfall  had  begun,  "  I 
shall  go  to  this  ball  to-night,"  or  "  I  shall  go  to  that 
theatre."  They  were  getting  the  theatres  ready  for 
the  plays,  now;  the  entrances  were  being  lighted. 
She  could  see  Wallack's  and  the  Union  Square,  each 
with  its  small  court  and  the  baize  doors  beyond.  Oh, 
how  pleasant  it  would  be  to  do  something,  to  look  at 
something,  to  hear  something,  to-night,  that  she  had 
not  done  and  looked  at  and  heard,  again  and  again, 
for  weeks  and  months  past !  The  girl's  blood  and 
bone  hungered  for  a  holiday.  She  must  go  back 
home,  soon.  And  there  was  only  one  thought  to 
make  the  prospect  of  return  endurable ;  that  thought 
was  meeting  her  father.  But  he  would  be  tired  ;  he 


70  AN  AMBITIOUS 

was  always  more  tired  nowadays  than  in  other  times. 
When  he  lay  upon  the  lounge  in  the  basement,  and 
she  got  the  stool  and  sat  down  beside  him,  he  would 
smile  to  have  her  put  both  arms  round  Ids  .neck  and 
press  her  cheek  up  close  to  his,  but  he  would  go  to 
sleep  very  soon  afterward ;  he  would  be  so  tired  that 
he  would  forget  even  to  ask  her  if  she  had  had  a 
hard  time  with  her  mother  that  day.  And  then  her 
mother  would  grumble  a  hint  that  the  dishes  were 
yet  to  be  washed,  and  she  would  take  her  arms  away 
from  the  beloved  neck,  and  scrape  and  clean  for 
quite  a  long  time ;  and  then  she  would  get  sleepy, 
more  because  she  remembered  how  early  she  must 
rise  to-morrow  than  because  a  very  little  diversion 
would  not  have  made  the  alert  young  lids  loath  to 
shade  her  eyes  for  hours  to  come. 

It  would  all  be  the  same  as  on  other  nights.  It 
was  always,  every  new  night,  the  same  as  on  that 
which  went  before.  There  was  the  dull  burden  of 
it.  When  would  the  burden  be  shifted  ?  Would  it 
ever  be  shifted  ?  Would  it  not  merely  grow  heavier, 
and  slowly  crush  her  down,  till  her  back  should  get 
the  crook  of  age,  and  so  bear  it  with  better  ease  ? 

She  went  nearer  to  the  edge  of  the  hillock,  and  set 
her  eyes  once  more  upon  the  city,  as  if  for  a  farewell 
view.  Its  lights  had  become  more  numerous  ;  the 
tips  of  its  spires  were  lost  in  tender  vapor.  Above, 
the  tiny  scraps  of  luminous  cloud  had  begun  to  fade ; 
the  river  h;»d  roughened  and  grown  dull,  and  there 
was  a  damp  keenness  in  the  freshening  breeze.  That 
exquisite  melancholy  which  is  sure  to  breathe  from 
evening  when  it  sheds  a  spell  over  the  triple  charm 
of  blended  sky,  land,  and  water,  was  now  in  the  full 
tide  of  its  lovely  power. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  71 

Claire  lifted  her  hand  to  her  lips,  and  waved  a 
kiss  toward  the  glooming  city.  It  was  a  pretty  ges 
ture,  and  so  furtive  and  stealthy  that  it  might  have 
fled  the  notice  of  any  one  who  stood  quite  close  at 
her  side.  And  the  low  words  that  now  succeeded  it, 
too,  were  just  low  enough  to  escape  such  heed,  though 
their  sense  might  easily  have  met  a  possible  listener 
with  the  effect  of  broken  and  half-audible  speech. 

"  Good-night,"  she  said  to  the  city.  "  Good-night, 
and  be  merry  for  hours  to  come.  You  seem  just  like 
something  alive  and  breathing,  but  I  know  that  if 
you  had  one  mind  and  one  heart  to  think  and  to  feel 
with,  instead  of  the  thousands  and  thousands  that 
you  have  got,  you  would  pity  me  because  I  'm  so 
sorry  that  this  big,  cold  river  is  always  between  us  !  " 

Claire  nearly  broke  into  a  laugh  at  her  own  soft 
and  quaint  little  apostrophe.  Like  most  lonely  peo 
ple  who  dislike  their  solitude,  she  often  felt  the  temp 
tation  to  soliloquize  ;  especially  since  her  imagination 
was  vigorous,  and  sometimes  loved,  as  well,  to  let 
mount  from  its  wrist  the  agile  falcon  of  fancy.  But 
a  practical  bent,  as  we  call  it,  and  a  rather  sharp 
sense  of  the  humor  of  tilings  besides,  usually  mingled 
to  repress  this  volatile  impulse.  As  it  was,  she  gave 
0  a  strong,  tired  sigh  instead  of  a  laugh,  and  turned 
her  face  homeward,  though  not  her  steps  quite  yet, 
for  she  still  remained  standing  on  the  mound  beside 
the  water. 

"  My  holiday,"  she  thought,  "  is  over."  She  did 
not  know  that  it  was  just  beginning. 

Her  last  action  had  brought  her  into  abrupt  con 
tact  with  a  girlish  figure,  whose  countenance  she 
might  have  recognized  had  not  the  dusk  so  deepened. 


V. 


"I  WAS  mos'  sure  'twas  you,  Miss  Twining,"  said 
the  new-corner,  holding  out  a  hand  to  Claire,  "  so  I 
run  a  little  further  up  the  hill,  jus'  to  make  reel  cer 
tain  sure." 

"  Well,  you  were  not  wrong,  Josie,"  said  Claire, 
giving  her  own  hand.  It  did  not  occur  to  her  that 
she  had  been  called  "  Miss  Twining "  and  had  an 
swered  by  "  Josie."  In  this  case  she  took  her  rights 
of  superiority  without  thinking ;  she  did  not  stop  to 
consider  their  soundness  ;  it  had  always  been  to  her 
an  accepted  fact  that  she  was  an  alien  and  an  exile, 
here  in  Greenpoint,  and  that  the  few  residents  whom 
she  knew  must  of  necessity  admit  her  claim  to  hav 
ing  existed  under  better  previous  conditions.  There 
was  no  taint  of  arrogance  in  this  unargued  assump 
tion. 

"  You  ain't  often  out 's  late  's  this,  Miss  Twining," 
said  Josie,  with  a  little  burst  of  laughter.  "Are  you, 
now  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed,"  answered  Claire.  "  I  am  not  often 
out  at  all."  She  sighed  again,  quite  unconsciously. 
"  Well,  Josie,"  she  went  on,  "I  must  be  getting  back 
home.  I  've  been  away  too  long,  as  it  is.  You  seem 
to  be  dressed  in  your  very  finest.  Does  it  mean  that 
you  are  going  to  enjoy  yourself  somewhere  ?  " 

Josie  gave  another  laugh.     "  I  expect  so,  Miss 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  73 

Twining,"  she  said,  with  a  touch  of  mysterious  piqu 
ancy  in  her  manner.  She  turned  herself  quickly 
about,  looking  over  her  shoulder  all  the  while  with 
the  air  of  waiting  for  some  one  to  appear.  Claire 
watched  her  closely  during  the  unconscious  but  sig 
nificant  by-play. 

The  name  of  this  young  girl  was  Josephine  Mor- 
ley.  She  was  of  Irish  parents,  but  felt  ashamed  of 
the  fact.  Perhaps  consciously,  perhaps  not,  she  had 
banished  from  her  speech  all  hereditary  traces.  She 
spoke  in  a  rattling  way,  and  every  now  and  then  she 
would  heap  massive  emphasis  on  one  special  word. 
Her  talk  made  you  think  of  a  railway  that  is  all 
broken  up  with  depots,  none  of  which  the  engine  dis 
countenances.  Her  widowed  mother  kept  a  grocery 
store,  not  amply  patronized,  and  of  moderate  prices. 
By  pre-arrangement  with  the  Twinings  on  a  basis  of 
the  most  severe  economy,  Josie  would  bring  them 
their  needed  supply  of  vegetables  thrice  a  week.  She 
was  not  so  jaunty-looking  on  those  occasions  as  she 
now  appeared.  Then  she  would  be  clad  in  any  flot 
sam  and  jetsam  of  apparel  that  charity  might  have 
drifted  toward  her.  But  to-night  she  was  smartly 
dressed.  Now  that  Claire  scanned  her  closer  in  the 
dimness,  it  was  plain  that  she  wore  very  unusual 
gear.  Josie  was  not  much  over  twenty.  She  was 
extremely  thin,  but  still  rather  shapely,  and  endowed 
with  a  good  deal  of  grace.  Her  face  would  have 
been  pretty  but  for  its  high  cheek-bones  and  the  hec 
tic  blotch  of  color  that  was  wont  to  flush  them,  in 
sharp  contrast  with  her  remaining  pallor.  She  had 
had  several  sisters  who  had  died  of  a  speedy  con 
sumption.  Her  eyes  were  black,  and  would  glitter 
as  she  moved  them  ;  she  was  always  moving  her 


74  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

eyes;  like  herself,  they  never  seemed  at  rest.  She 
constantly  smiled,  and  the  smile  would  have  had  a 
charm  of  its  own  if  it  had  failed  to  reveal  somewhat 
ruinous  teeth.  Claire  had  always  liked  her  vivacity, 
though  it  had  seemed  to  possess  a  spur  that  came 
from  an  unhealthy  impulse,  like  the  heat  of  internal 
fever.  She  wore  a  wide-brimmed  hat  of  dark  straw, 
with  a  great  crimson  feather,  and  a  costume  of  solne 
cheap  maroon  stuff,  violently  relieved  by  trimmings 
of  broad  white  braid.  The  ensemble  was  very  far 
from  ugly.  She  had  copied  its  effect  from  a  popular 
weekly  journal,  whose  harrowing  fiction  would  some 
times  be  supplemented  by  prints  of  the  latest  fash 
ions,  "  given  away  "  to  its  devoted  patrons. 

Claire,  having  drawn  nearer  to  Josie,  took  in  all 
her  details  of  costume  with  ready  swiftness.  This 
fleet  sort  of  observation  was  always  an  easy  matter 
for  Claire.  In  most  cases  of  a  like  sort,  she  would 
both  see  and  judge  before  others  had  accomplished 
even  the  first  process. 

"  You  seem  to  be  waiting  for  somebody,  Josie," 
she  now  said. 

"Yes,  I  am,"  returned  Josie,  with  another  laugh. 
She  put  one  slim  hand  to  her  mouth  as  she  laughed ; 
she  nearly  always  employed  this  gesture  at  such  a 
time  ;  it  came,  no  doubt,  from  a  consciousness  of 
dental  deficiencies.  "I  ain't  goin'  to  be  shy.  Miss 
Twining,"  she  pursued.  "  Why  should  I  ?  I'm  ex- 
pectin'  a  gent'man  friend  o'  mine.  We  was  goin' 
over  t'  the  city  together.  We  was  goin'  to  Niblo's. 
There  's  an  el'gant  play  there,  they  say."  .  .  .  Here 
Josie  paused,  drew  backward  for  an  instant,  and  then 
impulsively  seized  one  of  Claii'e's  hands  in  both  of 
her  own.  "  Oh,  Miss  Twining  !  "  she  suddenly  ex- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  75 

claimed,  "  I  know  I  had  n't  ought  to  ask  you  if  youd 
come  along,  too,  but  I  do  wish  you  just  would!  You 
ain't  the  same  kind  as  me  a  bit,  and  there  's  more  'n 
me  in  Greenpoint  —  now,  'pon  my  word  there  is  — 
that 's  said  when  they  see  you  that  you  was  a  reel 
lady.  But  still,  you  might  come  with  me  and  my 
friend,  Mr.  MacNab,  and  just  get  a  spell  of  'muse- 
ment.  I  know  you  ain't  had  any  'musement  in  good 
ness  sakes  how  long  !  It 's  a  reel  el'gant  play  !  Do 
say  you  will !  Now  I  ain't  a  bit  soft  on  Mr.  Mac- 
N*b.  P'aps  he  'd  like  me  to  be,  but  I  ain't.  So 
three  won't  spoil  comp'ny.  Now,  do !  Oh,  Miss 
Twining,  I  'd  be  awful  glad  if  you  would  !  " 

Josie's  tones,  like  her  words,  were  warmly  per 
suasive.  She  still  retained  Claire's  hand.  Nor  did 
Claire  withdraw  it.  She  was  tempted.  She  turned 
her  head  toward  the  darkling  city,  in  whose  realm 
of  deepened  shadow  many  new  lights  had  begun  to 
burn. 

"  Ah,  Josie,"  she  said,  "  you  are  very  kind  to  ask 
me.  But  I  'in  quite  shabby  beside  you,  you  know." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  flatly  objected  Josie  ;  "  you  look  fust 
rate.  That  ain't  no  sort  of  reason.  .  .  .  Do  !  Now, 
doT 

Claire  laughed  nervously.  She  was  thinking  how 
pleasant  it  would  be  to  hear  an  orchestra  play,  to  see 
a  curtain  rise,  to  watch  a  drama  roll  its  story  out,  be 
hind  vivid  footlights,  between  painted  scenes. 

"  I  am  sure  Mr.  MacNab  would  n't  like,"  she  said. 
And  then  she  thought  of  how  her  father  would  soon 
come  home  and  miss  her,  and  have  to  be  told,  when 
they  next  met,  that  she  had  been  to  the  theatre  over 
in  New  York  with  the  girl  who  brought  them  vege 
tables  thrice  a  week.  She  seemed  quite  to  have 


76  4 AT  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

made  up  her  mind,  presently.  She  withdrew  her 
hand  from  Josie's  with  a  good  deal  of  placid  force. 

"  No,  Josie,  I  can't,"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  you  can!  "  was  the  fervid  reply.  "Yes,  you 
just  shall,  Miss  Twining;  now  there/  I  ain't  goin' 
t'  let  you  off !  When  I  get  my  mind  set  right  onto 
anything,  I  'm  as  stubb'u  as  ever  I  can  be  !  An'  I  'in 
sure  you  'd  like  to  come.  There  ain't  no  doubt  of  't 
—  not  one  single  grain!  " 

Josie  was  laughing  while  she  thus  spoke,  and  had 
again  caught  Claire's  unwilling  hand  with  mordSbf 
entreaty  than  boldness. 

"  What  makes  you  sure  ? "  Claire  asked.  She 
smiled  now,  though  the  smile  was  sad. 

Josie's  laughter  became  a  high  treble  ripple.  She 
put  both  feet,  visible  beneath  her  short  skirt,  sud 
denly  very  close  together,  and  curved  her  lithe  body 
in  an  abrupt  burlesque  bow.  The  trick  was  grace 
ful,  though  vulgar  ;  it  savored  of  the  cheaper  variety 
entertainments,  where  Josie  had  no  doubt  found  it. 
She  still  held  Claire's  hand,  and  she  was  looking 
straight  into  the  eyes  of  her  companion  with  her  own 
dark,  brisk  eyes. 

"  What  makes  me  sure  you  'd  like  to  go  ?"  she  said. 
"  Why,  sakes  alive,  Miss  Twining,  I  can  see  the  need 
of  a  little  fun  oozin'  right  out  of  your  face — now, 
'pon  my  word  and  sacred  honor  I  just  can!  Oh, 
pshaw  !  We  '11  be  home  early  'nough.  It  won't  be 
much  more  'n  quarter  past  'leven,  I  guess.  B 'sides, 
who  '11  know  ?  'Tain't  anybody's  business  but  ours." 

'Father  would  know.  It  would  be  his  business,' 
Claire  thought.  But  she  did  not  answer  aloud,  as 
yet.  She  permitted  Josie  to  retain  her  hand,  while 
she  turned  and  gave  another  glance  toward  the  city 
across  the  river. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  77 

The  rapid  darkness  had  thickened.  Where  New 
York  had  lain,  dim  as  a  mirage,  hundreds  of  lights 
had  clustered ;  their  yellow  galaxy  more  than  rivaled 
the  pale  specks  of  fire  now  crowding  with  silent  speed 
into  the  heavens  domed  so  remotely  above  them. 

She  faced  Josie  again.  She  trembled,  though  im 
perceptibly.  Drooping  her  eyes,  at  first,  she  then 
raised  them.  "  Well,"  she  said,  "I  will  let  you  per 
suade  me.  I  will  go  with  you,  Josie." 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  made  a  resolve 
whose  fulfillment  she  felt  sure  would  displease  her  fa 
ther.  The  certainty  that  he  would  not  sanction  her 
going  in  companionship  of  this  proposed  sort  made 
Claire's  decision  a  sacrilege  to  herself,  even  while  she 
perversely  took  it.  She  trampled  on  her  own  filial 
loyalty,  and  she  seemed  to  feel  it  tremble  in  pained 
protest  under  the  outrage.  It  was  in  vain  that  a 
troop  of  self-excusing  pleas  sprang  to  battle  against 
her  shamed  afterthought.  She  knew  that  remorse 
was  already  whetting  for  her  its  poniard.  The  gloom 
of  her  father's  future  rebuke  had  already  made  itself 
a  part  of  the  increasing  nightfall. 

"  Oh,  ain't  I  glad,  though  ! "  Josie  broke  forth,  glee 
fully.  Her  triumph  was  one  of  pure  good-natured 
impulse,  but  at  the  same  time  she  had  a  flattered 
sense  that  her  evening's  amusement  would  now  gain 
a  stamp  of  distinction.  One  or  two  girls  in  Green- 
point  had  derided  her  for  encouraging  Mr.  MacNab 
as  a  devotee.  She  herself  secretly  derided  the  young 
man  in  that  same  tender  office.  For  this  reason  she 
had  arranged  that  they  should  meet  here  to-night  at 
the  foot  of  the  little  hillock  near  the  river,  and  in 
vest  their  purposed  trip  with  enough  clandestine  as 
sociation  to  defeat  the  couchant  raillery  of  certain 
unsparing  neighbors. 


78  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Almost  immediately  Mr.  MacNab  made  his  appear 
ance  below,  and  Josie  tripped  lightly  down  toward 
him,  followed  by  Claire  at  a  much  more  sober  pace. 
The  introduction  promptly  followed,  and  Josie's  glib, 
matter-of-course  explanation  soon  succeeded  that. 
The  reason  of  Claire's  presence  was  given  Mr.  Mac- 
Nab  by  Josie  with  a  handsome,  off-hand  patronage. 
*'  It 's  awful  nice  o'  Miss  Twining  to  consent  to  go 
along  with  us,"  she  ended.  "Aint  it,  now?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  MacNab. 

The  young  man  was  inwardly  tortured  by  this  ab 
rupt  announcement.  He  was  very  much  in  love  with 
Josie,  and  he  had  felt  deeper  and  deeper  thrills  of 
anticipation  all  day  long,  as  the  hour  of  their  ren 
dezvous  drew  near.  He  was  a  youth  of  about  two- 
and-twenty.  His  stature  was  so  low  as  to  be  almost 
dwarfish  ;  both  Claire's  and  Josie's  well  overtopped 
it.  He  was  very  stout,  however  ;  the  breadth  of  his 
shoulders  and  the  solid  girth  of  his  limbs  might  have 
suited  six  feet  of  clean  height.  He  had  a  large, 
smooth,  moon-like  face,  a  pair  of  little  black  eyes, 
and  a  pair  of  huge  red  ears.  He  was  immoderately 
ugly,  but  with  an  expression  so  simply  amiable  as 
quite  to  escape  repulsiveness.  You  felt  that  his  ready 
smile  possessed  vast  hidden  funds  of  geniality  ;  there 
was  no  telling  what  supple  resources  that  long  slit 
of  big-lipped  mouth  might  draw  upon,  at  a  really 
mirthful  emergency.  One  glance  at  his  abnormal 
hands,  where  every  joint  was  an  uncouth  protuber 
ance  and  every  nail  a  line  of  inky  darkness,  left  it 
certain  that  they  held  no  dainty  share  of  the  world's 
manual  requirements.  Mr.  James  MacNab  was  an 
oyster-opener  for  about  eight  months  in  the  year,  and 
a  clain-opeiier  through  the  remaining  four.  The  nar- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  79 

row  window  of  his  employer's  shop  looked  upon 
Greenpoint  Avenue,  wedged  between  the  stores  of 
a  butcher  and  a  candy-seller.  Like  Josie  Morley, 
James  was  of  Irish  parentage;  like  her,  he  abjured 
the  accent  of  his  ancestors,  having  been  born  here, 
and  having  breathed  into  his  being  at  an  -early  age 
that  peculiar  shame  of  Celtic  origin  which  belongs 
among  our  curiosities  of  immigration.  His  wages 
were  meagre,  and  his  hours  of  work  numerous.  .  To 
night  was  a  precious  interval  of  relaxation.  He  had 
been  released  at  three  o'clock  that  afternoon,  and  had 
gone  heavy-lidded  to  a  tiny  cot  in  a  garret-room, 
where  he  had  slept  the  exhausted  sleep  of  one  who 
is  always  in  arrears  to  the  drowsy  god.  Not  long 
ago  he  had  waked,  highly  refreshed,  and  pierced 
with  the  expectation  of  soon  meeting  his  beloved 
Josie.  He  had  four  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  in 
his  pocket,  and  the  possession  of  this  sum  gave  him 
a  firm  sense  of  pecuniary  security.  The  strong  faith 
that  he  was  finely  dressed,  too,  increased  his  confi 
dence.  He  had  a  little  low  hat  of  black  felt,  tipped 
sideways  on  his  ungainly  head  ;  an  overcoat  of  muddy 
cinnamon-brown,  with  broad  black  binding  along  its 
lappels  and  edges  ;  and  a  pair  of  boots  so  capably 
polished  that  their  lustre  dissuaded  you  from  too 
close  scrutiny  of  the  toe-joint  bulging  from  either 
clumsy  foot.  He  was  entirely  satisfied  with  his  gen 
eral  effect.  He  knew  that  nature  had  not  made  him 
comely,  but  he  felt  complete  repose  of  conscience  in 
the  matter  of  having  atoned  artistically  for  this  per 
sonal  slight. 

Josie's  tidings  left  him  almost  speechless.  In  a 
trice  his  glowing  hopes  had  crumbled  to  ashes.  He 
had  long  known  Claire  by  sight.  He  had,  in  a  way, 


80  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

admired  her.  But  she  was  not  of  his  monde,  and  he 
saw  with  woe  and  dismay  that  for  this  reason  her 
company  would  prove  all  the  more  burdensome.  As 
a  mutter  of  expense,  too,  it  presented  the  most  pain 
ful  objections.  New  drafts  must  be  made  upon  his 
limited  capital.  All  his  past  calculations  were  sud 
denly  rendered  null.  Who  could  say  what  financial 
disaster  might  overtake  him,  if  he  should  now  aspire 
to  three  oyster-stews  after  three  seats  at  the  theatre  ? 
Would  his  four  dollars  and  seventy-five  cents  not 
pass  its  powers  of  elasticity  if  subjected  to  this  un 
foreseen  stretching-process?  Claire,  meanwhile,  was 
wholly  unconscious  of  his  distress.  It  was  not  till 
they  had  embarked  on  the  ferry-boat  that  the  thought 
of  her  escort's  possible  poverty  occurred  to  her  flur 
ried  mind.  "  Oh,  Josie,"  she  soon  found  a  chance  to 
whisper,  "  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  a  great  expense  to 
your  friend !  I  would  have  thought  of  it  sooner  if 
you  had  not  pressed  me  so,  without  any  warning  be 
forehand.  And  I  have  only  a  little  change  in  my 
pocket,  so  I  can't  " 

But  here  Josie  interrupted  her  with  a  magnificent 
murmured  fiction  to  the  effect  that  they  were  under 
the  protection  of  a  young  man  who  "jus'  made  money 
hand  over  fist "  ;  and  Claire,  believing  this  handsome 
falsehood,  let  Josie  talk  with  her  gallant  while  she 
relapsed  into  silence. 

They  were  all  on  the  forward  deck  of  the  steam 
boat,  close  against  its  wooden  railing.  Claire  was  a 
little  apart  from  her  companions  ;  she  had  instinc 
tively  withdrawn  from  them.  The  night  had  now 
woven  its  web  to  the  full.  Overhead  the  stars 
beamed  more  richly  ;  below,  the  black  river  shim 
mered  with  glassy  lustre  where  it  met  the  sides  of 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  81 

the  speeding  vessel,  and  then  rolled  off  again  into 
darkness  with  great  swollen  waves.  Long  points  of 
light  pierced  the  gloom  below  the  opposite  shore, 
like  golden  plummets  that  were  slowly  fathoming  its 
opaque  tide.  Here  and  there  scarlet  or  green  lights 
moved  over  the  waters,  given  by  the  viewless  barks 
that  bore  them  the  look  of  weird,  wandering  jack-o'- 
lanterns.  These  were  simply  fantastic  ;  they  held  no 
human  analogies.  A  sloop,  thus  brilliantly  decked, 
hove  on  a  sudden  into  sight,  not  many  yards  from 
Claire's  peering  gaze.  Its  expanse  of  canvas,  tense 
in  the  sharp  breeze,  caught  a  momentary  unearthly 
pallor  ;  it  slipped  into  view  like  a  monstrous  phan 
tom,  and  like  a  phantom  it  vanished  again.  This, 
too,  was  a  merely  elfin  and  quaint  apparition  ;  no 
sense  of  vital  reality  lay  behind  it.  But  the  journey 
ing  ferry-boats,  that  voyaged  to  their  several  goals 
on  either  side  the  river,  took,  with  their  curved  lines 
of  small,  keen-lit  windows  and  their  illuminations  at 
various  other  points,  the  likeness  of  stately  galleys 
gliding  after  nightfall  to  some  opulent  port.  All 
their  horrors  of  nautical  architecture  were  deadened 
by  merciful  shadow.  Claire  felt  the  quiet  splendor 
of  the  suggestion.  Her  varied  educational  past  made 
this  fully  possible.  But  the  whole  effect  of  transfor 
mation,  of  magic,  of  mystery,  and  of  beauty,  which 
follows  the  advent  of  night  along  all  the  watery  en 
virons  of  our  great  metropolis,  appealed  to  her  with 
deep  force. 

She  had  a  fancy  that  the  hard  prose  had  left  her 
life  forever;  that  she  was  now  being  softly  swept  into 
luxurious  and  romantic  surroundings  ;  that  the  festal 
and  poetic  look  of  city  and  river  symbolized  a  fairer 
and  kindlier  future.  The  indulgence  of  this  fancy 

6 


82  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

thrilled  her  delightfully;  it  was  a  sort  of  intoxica 
tion  ;  she  no  longer  felt  culpable,  un filial ;  she  leaned 
her  graceful  young  head  far  over  the  boat-rail,  as 
though  to  gain  by  this  act  a  stronger  intimacy  with 
the  sweet,  drowsy  sorceries  that  encompassed  her. 

"My!  ain't  it  reel  chilly  out  here,  though?"  said 
Josie.  "  We  'd  ought  to  'a  stayed  inside,  had  nt  we, 
Miss  Twining  ?  " 

This  half  broke  the  spell  with  Claire.  "  I  like  it 
so  much  better  out  here,"  she  answered.  "  The  air 
is  n't  too  sharp  for  me,  and  then  everything  is  so 
beautiful  and  strange."  She  slightly  waved  one  hand 
toward  the  brilliant  city  as  she  spoke. 

Josie  did  not  understand  at  all.  How  could  there 
be  anything  beautiful  in  a  lot  of  boats  screaming  to 
each  other  after  dark  with  steam-whistles  ?  But  she 
said  "  yes,"  and  cast  a  glance  at  Mr.  MacNab,  which 
was  meant  to  veto  in  him  the  first  symptom  of  sur 
prise.  Claire's  superiority  must  not  have  the  least 
slight  cast  upon  it.  It  would  never  do  to  encourage 
Mr.  MacNab  in  undervaluing  the  compliment  of  her 
companionship. 

The  boat  soon  landed,  and  all  Claire's  lovely  illu 
sions  fled.  Still,  here  was  the  city,  noisy,  populous, 
alluring.  After  disembarking  at  the  ferry  they  were 
yet  far  away  from  Kiblo's,  and  a  long  ride  ensued,  in 
a  car  crowded  and  of  ill  odor.  Then  came  a  walk 
of  considerable  length,  fleetly  taken,  for  they  were  a 
little  late  by  Mr.  MacNab's  silver  time-piece,  which 
afterward  proved  to  be  fast. 

Mr.  MacNab  was  meanwhile  in  a  sort  of  nervous 
trance.  He  had  made  what  for  him  was  a  tour  de 
force  in  mental  arithmetic,  though  he  still  remained 
insecure  about  the  exactitude  of  his  calculation. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  83 

However,  he  felt  confident  of  one  thing  :  three  seats, 
of  a  certain  kind,  would  cost  three  dollars.  A  dol 
lar  would  solidly  remain  to  him,  though  the  precise 
amount  of  surplus  change  now  in  his  pocket  defied 
all  his  mathematical  modes  of  discovery.  Pride  for 
bade  that  he  should  take  out  the  silver  bits  and 
count  them.  But  his  residual  dollar  could  at  least 
pay  the  homeward  fares.  Cold  as  this  comfort  may 
have  been,  it  took,  no  doubt,  a  certain  relative  warmth 
when  contrasted  with  dire  pecuniary  exposure. 

They  at  length  reached  the  theatre,  and  easily  pro 
cured  upstairs  seats  that  commanded  an  excellent 
view  of  the  stage.  The  curtain  had  not  yet  risen. 
Claire  was  glad  of  that ;  she  had  the  desire  not  to 
miss  a  single  detail  of  the  coming  performance.  She 
was  intently  examining  her  play-bill,  when,  on  a  sud 
den,  a  man's  voice,  close  at  her  right,  spoke  to  this 
effect :  — 

"  Hello,  Jimmy,  is  that  yerself  ?  " 

The  next  moment  Claire  perceived  a  hand  and  arm 
to  have  been  unceremoniously  thrust  in  front  of  her, 
while  a  young  man  leaned  his  body  very  much  side 
ways  indeed.  She  receded,  herself,  not  without  an 
noyance. 

Josie  sat  next  to  her,  and  then  came  Mr.  MacNab, 
who  now  permitted  himself  to  be  shaken  hands  with 
across  the  laps  of  the  two  girls. 

"  Hello,  Jack,"  he  responded,  at  the  same  time. 
"  What  you  doin'  here  ?  " 

"  Come  t'  see  the  show,"  said  the  person  called 
Jack. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  " 

"  'Course.     Nuthin'  strange  'bout  it,  is  there  ?  " 

"  That 's  all  right." 


84  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

"  S'pose  you  're  on  the  same  racket  yerself.  Hey  ?  " 

"  You  bet,  ole  boy." 

All  these  utterances  were  exchanged  in  tones  of 
the  most  easy  cordiality.  The  two  young  men  had 
ceased  to  shake  hands,  but  were  leaning  each  toward 
the  other,  apparently  quite  unconscious  of  the  incon 
venience  which  they  inflicted  upon  both  Josie  and 
Claire. 

"  I  got  sold  t'  night,"  Jack  continued,  with  a 
blended  wink  and  giggle. 

"  How 's  that  ?  " 

Jack  gave  a  demonstrative  jerk  of  the  elbow, 
meant  to  indicate  a  vacant  seat  on  his  further  side. 
"  Me  an'  my  gal  was  comin'  t'gether,  but  she  gimme 
the  slip  after  I  'd  got  mer  seats.  Sent  word  she  had 
the  headache.  "Well,  I  dunno  how  't  is,  but  I  reckon 
I  '11  have  to  punch  some  feller's  head,  'fore  long. 
Hey,  Jimmy?" 

This  hostile  prophecy  was  hailed  by  Jimmy  with  a 
laugh  whose  repressed  enjoyment  took  the  semblance 
of  a  goose's  hiss,  except  that  its  tone  was  more  gut 
tural  and  its  volume  more  massive. 

"  I  guess  that 's  'bout  the  size  of  it,  Jack,"  he  re 
plied.  The  next  moment  he  straightened  himself  in 
his  seat,  having  received  an  exasperated  nudge  from 
Josie. 

Mr.  MacNab's  friend  followed  his  example.  Claire 
felt  relieved.  She  examined  her  programme  again. 
She  had  already  managed  to  see  quite  as  much  as  she 
wished  of  the  person  seated  next  her. 

His  name  was  Slocumb.  Ho  had  a  cousin  in 
Greenpoint,  an  undertaker's  son,  whom  he  would 
occasionally  visit  of  a  Sunday,  bringing  across  the 
river  to  the  doleful  quarters  of  his  kinsfolk  a  de- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  85 

meaner  of  high  condescension  and  patronage.  He 
was  in  reality  a  loafer  of  very  vicious  sort,  feeding 
his  idleness  upon  the  alms  of  an  infatuated  woman, 
whose  devotion  he  did  not  repay  with  even  the  sav 
ing  grace  of  fidelity.  He  had  contrived  to  hide  bis 
real  badness  of  life  and  lowness  of  repute  from  both 
uncle  and  cousin,  and  had  won  the  latter  to  believe 
him  a  superior  kind  of  metropolitan  product.  To 
gether  MacNab  and  he  had  partaken  of  refreshment 
at  the  shop  of  the  former's  employer,  and  from  such 
events  had  sprung  an  intimacy  with  the  oyster-opener 
which  had  found  its  most  active  development  in  a 
near  driiiking-shop.  Mr.  John  Slocumb  had  a  dull, 
brownish  complexion,  a  light-brown  eye,  and  a  faint 
brown  mustache.  His  face  was  not  ugly,  judged  by 
line  and  feature,  but  it  had  a  hardness  that  resem 
bled  bronze  ;  you  fancied  that  you  might  touch  its 
cheek  and  meet  no  resistance.  There  was  a  look  of 
vice  and  depravity  about  it  that  was  not  to  be  ex 
plained  ;  the  repulsive  element  was  there,  but  it 
eluded  direct  proof ;  it  was  no  more  in  eyelid  than 
in  nostril,  but  it  was  as  much  in  forehead  and  chin 
as  in  either.  Claire  felt  the  repelling  force  almost 
instantly.  Mr.  Slocumb's  dress  was  not  designed  in 
a  fashion  to  decrease  its  effect.  He  wore  a  suit  of 
green-and-blue  plaid,  each  tint  being  happily  moder 
ated,  like  evil  that  prefers  to  lurk  in  ambush.  The 
collar  of  his  shirt  sloped  down  at  the  breast,  leaving 
an  unwonted  glimpse  of  his  neck  visible.  But  you 
saw  a  good  deal  of  his  cravat,  which  was  green, 
barred  with  broad  yellow  stripes,  and  pierced  by  a 
pin  that  appeared  to  be  a  hand  of  pink  coral  clutch 
ing  a  golden  dumb  -  bell.  His  figure  was  slender 
almost  to  litheness,  but  his  shoulders  outspread  two 


86  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN1. 

such  long  and  bulky  ridges  that  you  at  once  placed 
their  athletic  proportions  among  the  most  courageous 
frauds  of  tailoring. 

The  orchestra  had  now  begun  to  play  a  lively  and 
rather  clangorous  prelude.  And  meanwhile  Claire 
was  gradually  made  to  learn  that  Mr.  John  Slocumb 
was  keeping  up  a  cool,  persistent  stare  at  her  half- 
averted  face.  She  soon  became  troubled  by  this 
unrelaxing  scrutiny,  as  minutes  slipped  by.  Mr.  Slo 
cumb  had  a  slim  black  cane  that  looked  like  a  pol 
ished  and  rounded  whalebone  and  ended  in  the  head 
of  a  bull-dog,  with  two  white  specks  of  ivory  for  its 
eyes.  Holding  this  between  his  knees,  he  flung  it 
from  one  hand  to  another  in  nervous  oscillation,  while 
continuing  his  stai'e. 

He  had  decided  that  Claire  was  a  damned  good- 
looking  girl.  He  had  a  secret  contempt  for  her  es 
cort,  Mr.  MacNab.  He  judged  all  men  by  the  capa 
bilities  of  their  muscle,  and  he  had  practical  reasons 
for  feeling  sure  that  his  own  wiry  frame  held  easy 
resources  for  the  annihilation  of  "poor  little  Jimmy." 
'  She  looks  putty  high-toned,'  he  was  reflecting,  '  but 
I  guess  that 's  on'y  a  put-up  job  to  tease  a  feller.  She 
can't  be  much  if  she 's  along  with  that  young  un. 
I  '11  say  somepn.' 

He  was  on  the  verge  of  carrying  out  this  resolve 
and  addressing  Claire,  when  an  event  occurred  which 
had  the  effect  of  thwarting  his  meditated  imperti 
nence. 

The  mind  of  James  MacNab  was  dull  and  sluggish. 
But  he  had  seen  a  way  of  perhaps  securing  for  him 
self  the  undivided  attention  of  Josie.  He  did  not 
wait  for  the  latter  to  sanction  his  design  ;  he  feared 
her  opposition  to  it,  and  suddenly  spoke,  leaning  for 
ward  again  with  his  look  directed  full  upon  Claire. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  87 

"Miss  Twinin',''  he  said,  "'low  me  t'  intrerdooce 
a  friend  o'  mine,  Mr.  Slocumb.  Mr.  Slocumb,  Miss 
Twinin' ;  Miss  Twinin',  Mr.  Slocumb." 

During  this  ponderous  formula  of  presentation 
Claire  had  started,  colored,  turned  toward  the  neigh 
bor  thus  pointedly  named,  and  finally  bowed  with 
extreme  coldness,  at  once  re-averting  her  face  after 
doing  so. 

She  seized  the  chance  of  whispering  to  Josie  : 
"Why  did  he  do  that?  I  don't  want  to  meet  any 
strangers  to-night.  I  hoped  he  would  understand." 

"He  'd  ought  to,"  replied  Josie,  in  swift  aside.  "I 
do  declare  it 's  too  bad  ! " 

The  next  moment  she  addressed  Mr.  MacNab. 
Claire  could  not  hear  what  she  said  to  him,  but  her 
brisk  asperity  of  gesture  somewhat  plainly  denoted 
reprimand.  Her  remarks,  whatever  their  nature, 
were  met  in  stolid  silence.  He  who  received  them 
rather  enjoyed  being  scolded  by  Josie.  Her  wrath 
had  the  charm  of  exclusiveness ;  for  the  time,  at 
least,  it  vouchsafed  to  him  her  unshared  heed. 

Slocumb  made  prompt  use  of  his  new  opportunity. 
"  I  guess  we  '11  have  a  putty  decent  show  to-night," 
he  s;iid.  "  They  say  it  lays  over  most  ev'rything 
that 's  been  here  fur  a  year  or  two." 

Claire  was  now  forced  to  turn  and  look  at  the 
speaker.  To  ignore  him  was  no  longer  to  preserve 
dignity.  lie  had  received  his  right  of  way  beyond 
the  barriers  of  her  disregard ;  he  had  become  an 
authorized  nuisance  ;  civility  from  herself  had  taken 
the  instant  shape  of  a  debt,  due  her  present  escort. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  if  it  is  a  good  play,"  she  said. 
Her  tones  were  chill  and  forced  ;  her  manner  was 
repellent  because  so  restrained-  Immediately  after 


88  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

speaking  she  looked  at  the  stage.  The  orchestra  had 
just  stopped  its  brassy  tumults.  The  green  width  of 
curtain  was  slowly  rolling  upward. 

The  play  began.  It  was  one  of  those  melodramas 
that  are  the  despair  of  reformatory  critics,  yet  reach 
the  protective  approval  of  the  populace  through  scenic 
novelty,  swift  action,  and  vivid,  if  coarse-lined,  por 
traitures.  Claire  was  too  infrequent  a  theatre-goer 
not  promptly  to  fall  under  the  spell  wrought  by  a 
playwright  deft  enough  for  the  capture  of  others  far 
more  experienced  than  she  in  tricks  of  climax,  dia 
logue,  and  situation. 

Occasionally,  during  the  progress  of  this  act,  she 
would  murmur  pleased  comments  to  Josie.  She  be 
trayed  an  interest  that  was  childish  ;  she  had  forgot 
ten  the  proximity  of  Slocumb.  He  still  stared  at 
her ;  he  had  not  been  effectually  repulsed  by  her  sup 
pressed,  colorless  demeanor.  Her  refined  accent  and 
the  musical  quality  inseparable  at  all  times  from  her 
voice  had  affected  him  like  a  new  sensation.  He 
failed  to  follow  the  actors  while  they  diligently  stored 
up  material  for  future  agony.  He  had  enormous  con 
fidence  in  his  own  powers  of  fascination  with  women, 
It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  Claire  might  be  a  lady, 
He  knew  nothing  of  ladies.  He  had  met  some 
women  who  disliked  him  at  sight,  who  would  have 
none  of  him,  whose  fortresses  of  prejudice  he  could 
not  storm.  But  these  incidents  of  disfavor  were  rare ; 
his  list  of  conquests  far  outnumbered  them. 

"She's  playin'  off,"  sped  his  further  reflections, 
once  more  shaped  in  the  vernacular  of  actual  speech. 
"  I  '11  let  up  on  her  fur  a  spell.  When  the  fust  act  'a 
through  I  '11  tackle  her  agin.  /She  aint  'a  offish  aa 
she  looks.  Bet  she  ain't !  " 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  89 

The  act  progressed,  and  at  length  ended.  Its 
finale  foretold  a  plentitude  of  woe  and  disaster;  a 
great  deal  of  pipe,  so  to  speak,  had  been  laid  for  fu 
ture  calamity  ;  everything  promised  to  be  inclement 
and  tempestuous.  The  audience  exchanged  mur 
murs  of  grim  approbation ;  it  was  going  to  get  its 
money's  worth  of  horror. 

But  now  an  event  abruptly  took  place  which  for 
lurid  reality  far  eclipsed  all  within  the  limits  of  can 
vas  and  calcium.  Just  as  the  drop  -  curtain  had 
reached  half-way  in  its  descent,  a  sudden  burst  of 
flame  was  seen  to  issue  from  one  of  the  wings.  It 
may  at  once  be  said  that  the  fire  was  completely  ex 
tinguished  soon  after  the  curtain  had  touched  the 
boards,  and  that  nothing  more  serious  had  caused 
it  than  the  momentary  conflagration  of  some  gauze 
side-scene  which  was  to  serve  in  a  corning  effect  of 
misty  moonlight. 

But  the  large  mass  of  people  who  witnessed  the 
blaze,  and  who  saw  and  smelt  the  smoke  as  it  curled 
and  eddied  in  black  spirts  forth  from  behind  the 
edges  of  the  fallen  curtain,  had  no  knowledge  of 
their  own  slight  peril.  Here,  in  the  upper  tiers, 
they  rose  impetuously  ;  it  was  a  prompt  and  general 
panic.  Dashes  were  made  on  every  hand  toward 
the  staircases.  Cries  of  "  fire  "  sounded  from  many 
throats.  Claire  felt  herself  swept  by  sheer  bodily 
pressure  at  least  twenty  yards.  A  few  seconds  be 
fore  this  she  had  heard  a  sort  of  whimpering  shriek 
from  Josie  Morley,  and  then  had  seen  a  sidelong 
wedge  of  close-packed  humanity  pry  itself  between 
her  own  form  and  that  of  tho  girl.  Josie  was  cling 
ing  with  both  hands  to  the  arm  of  James  MacNab  at 
the  moment  of  her  disappearance. 


90  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Claire  was  more  shocked  than  frightened.  She 
had  never  before  found  herself  in  physical  danger; 
to-night  was  a  crucial  test  for  her  nerve  and  coolness. 
Both  stood  the  test  well.  John  Slocumb,  who  had 
kept  close  at  her  side,  with  his  stout  arm  firmly 
clasped  about  her  waist,  now  felt  a  thrill  of  admira 
tion  as  she  turned  to  him  and  quietly  said,  while 
they  stood  jammed  together  in  the  panting  throng, 
whose  very  fierceness  of  impetus  had  produced  for 
it  a  brief,  terrible  calm,  "  I  wish  you  would  not  hold 
me  like  that,  please.  There  's  no  need  of  it." 

We  sometimes  hear  of  the  ruling  passion  that  is 
strong  in  death.  Claire  knew  there  was  danger  of 
her  being  crushed.  But  she  had  not  lost  her  head, 
as  the  phrase  goes.  She  could  still  prefer  solitary 
extinction  to  the  fate  of  being  annihilated  while  in 
the  embrace  of  Mr.  John  Slocumb. 

He  removed  his  arm.  "  All  right,"  he  muttered, 
"  if  you  'd  rather  go  it  alone." 

"  I  would,  thank  you,"  said  Claire. 


VI. 


BUT,  as  it  happened,  they  were  not  separated.  The 
crowd,  pouring  down  either  staircase,  soon  thinned. 
There  was  better  breathing-space,  and  a  fairer  chance 
as  well,  for  the  more  demoralized  to  push  and  strug 
gle.  Slocumb  kept  close  behind  Claire.  He  warded 
off  from  her  a  number  of  desperate  thrusts.  She  was 
not  aware  of  these  defensive'  tactics ;  she  paid  no 
further  heed  to  her  former  champion  ;  as  her  sense 
of  danger  lessened,  the  idea  of  re-meeting  Josie  took 
shape  and  strength.  When  the  first  step  of  the  stair 
case  was  reached,  she  stumbled,  and  then  regained 
herself.  She  had  no  suspicion,  at  this  moment,  what 
actually  doughty  work  Slocumb  was  doing,  just  in 
her  rear.  He  was  a  man  of  unusual  muscular  power, 
and,  like  not  a  few  of  his  rough,  pugnacious  species, 
endowed  with  dogged  physical  courage.  At  sight 
Claire  had  keenly  attracted  him  ;  her  recent  aversion 
had  piqued  him  into  liking  her  still  more.  If  the 
occasion  had  grown  one  of  sharper  immediate  jeop 
ardy,  it  is  by  no  means  doubtful  that  he  might  have 
shown  intrepid  heroism,  as  her  rescuer.  He  was 
gross,  coarse,  unprincipled,  but  he  had  that  quality 
of  stubbornly  defending  what  he  liked  which  we  often 
see  in  the  finest  of  brutes  and  sometimes  in  the  least 
fine  of  men. 

Up  to  this  time  the  prevailing  affright  had  meant 


92  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

bitter  ill  to  all  whom  it  had  seized.  The  threat  of 
a  hideous  destruction  had  by  no  means  passed  when 
the  crowd  about  Claire  grew  less  dense ;  for  not  far 
behind  her  were  two  opposite  streams  of  life  that  had 
met  and  were  each  destroying  the  other's  progress  by 
their  very  madness  of  encounter.  Below  stairs,  and 
at  one  of  the  intermediate  landings,  numerous  peo 
ple  had  already  been  severely  hurt  ;  limbs  had  been 
broken,  and  acute  injuries  of  other  kinds  had  been 
dealt.  The  cries  heard  here  and  there  were  made 
as  much  by  pain  as  fear. 

But  powers  of  good  were  working  with  ardor 
among  the  lower  quarters  of  the  building.  A  man 
had  sprung  forth  upon  the  stage,  and  was  imploring 
order  amid  the  smoke*  which  partly  enveloped  him, 
while  at  the  same  time  he  shouted  to  the  multitude 
that  the  fire  was  now  under  perfect  control.  Two 
policemen  and  two  ushers  were  abetting  him  further 
on,  where  neither  his  entreaties  nor  explanations 
could  reach.  Suddenly,  with  the  same  speed  shown 
by  the  panic  at  its  origin,  an  orderly  lull  was  mani 
fest  in  its  haphazard  turmoil.  A  few  caught  the 
sense  of  the  cheering  intelligence,  and  these  spread  it 
swiftly  from  tongue  to  tongue.  At  the  moment  when 
this  change  began  to  be  clearly  assertive,  Claire  and 
Slocumb  had  almost  gained  the  last  landing  of  the 
stairs.  By  the  time  they  were  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  theatre,  not  a  few  persons  who  desired  to  air  their 
bravery,  now  that  safety  seemed  certain,  were  return 
ing  to  their  seats  in  dress-circle  or  parquette.  "  It 's 
on'y  a  hoax,  after  all,"  said  Slocumb.  "  There  's  a 
heap  more  scared  nor  hurt.  S'pose  we  git  upstairs 
again  ?  Hey  ?  What  d'  yer  think  ?  " 

Claire  shook  her  head.    "No,  I  want  to  find  Josie,'1 


AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  93 

she  answered.  "  I  don't  Care  to  go  back.  I  think 
she  will  not,  either." 

"All  right,"  said  Slocumb;  "jus'  take  my  hook, 
an'  we  '11  git  out  o'  here,  an'  watch  fur  Jim  an'  her 
where  they  're  mos'  likely  to  be." 

He  extended  an  arm  to  Claire  as  he  spoke,  and 
pointed  at  the  same  time  toward  a  spacious  outer 
hallway,  in  which  the  terrified  multitude  had  already 
become  much  more  tractable.  But  Claire  resolutely 
refused  to  see  the  offered  arm.  She  had  begun  to 
tremble ;  now  that  the  cause  for  fright  had  passed, 
she  was  made  to  realize  with  how  strong  a  wrench 
she  had  screwed  her  nerves  to  the  sticking-point.  A 
touch  of  giddiness  came  upon  her ;  then  a  knot  rose 
in  her  throat,  and  she  feught  transiently,  but  with 
silent  success,  against  a  novel  sensation  that  only 
slight  self-surrender  might  have  encouraged  into  tur 
bid  hysteria.  Still,  she  preserved  her  repugnance, 
as  it  were.  She  would  not  accept  Slocumb's  arm. 
She  had  made  up  her  mind  that  he  was  a  vulgar  and 
worthless  creature,  and  moreover  she  had  a  distress 
ing  instinct  that  he  had  thus  stayed  at  her  side  be 
cause  of  some  new-born  personal  enticement. 

He  saw  plainly  her  rebuff,  though  she  did  not  put 
it  in  any  salient  way,  choosing  to  let  him  suppose  it 
a  mere  unconscious  omission.  But  he  preferred  not 
to  let  it  pass  unnoticed. 

"  Oho,"  he  said,  with  surly  force,  while  still  keep 
ing  his  arm  crooked,  and  shoving  it  so  prominently 
toward  her  that  no  further  subterfuge  was  possible. 
"  So  y'  ain't  goin'  to  ketch  on,  hey  ?  Wat 's  the  rea 
son?  We  can  git  'long  better.  Come,  now,  Zt^'s." 

"  No,"  said  Claire,  driven  to  bay.  "  I  am  very 
much  obliged  to  you,  but  I  don't  need  any  help." 


94  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAti. 

"  Oh  !     You  '11  go  it  alone.     All  right." 

But  Mr.  Slocunib  did  not  look  as  if  he  thought 
it  by  any  means  right.  His  hard,  brown  face  had 
clouded  with  sulky  disapprobation.  A  little  gleam 
of  teeth  had  stolen  out  under  his  crisp,  short  mus 
tache,  with  an  effect  not  unlike  what  we  see  when 
an  angry  dog  snarls.  He  felt  offended,  and  this 
meant  that  he  should  either  sting  with  his  tongue  or 
smite  with  his  fists.  But  in  the  present  case  a  fresh 
glance  at  Claire,  whose  profile  was  turned  to  him, 
made  his  spleen  swiftly  perish.  Her  cheek  had  got 
a  deep  tint  of  rose ;  he  saw  the  liquid  sparkle  of  one 
dark-blue  eye,  and  the  dense,  rippling  hair,  chestnut 
threaded  with  gold,  flowing  above  one  faint-veined 
temple. 

'  Aint  she  a  stunner ! '  he  thought.  After  that  he 
forgot  to  be  offended.  They  were  now  in  a  spacious 
hallway  leading  directly  to  the  street.  The  panic 
had  quite  subsided.  Knots  of  people  were  standing 
here  and  there,  loudly  discussing  their  late  alarms. 
Some  of  the  women  looked  and  acted  as  if  they  were 
midway  between  mirth  and  tears.  Most  of  the  men 
seemed  grave  ;  a  few  were  laughing,  but  in  a  nerv 
ous,  furtive  way.  Along  the  centre  of  the  broad  pas 
sage  pressed  a  line  of  people  whom  the  shock  had  left 
too  dispirited  for  further  sojourn  in  the  house. 

Claire,  with  her  adherent,  was  among  these  latter. 
In  quest  of  Josie,  she  scanned  every  face  within  her 
field  of  vision.  She  had  already  caught  sight  of  more 
than  one  injured  unfortunate,  further  back,  where 
the  rush  on  the  lower  floor  had  been  most  disastrous, 
and  just  before  she  and  Slocumb  had  gained  their 
present  open  quarters.  On  tins  account,  rather  than 
because  of  the  wild  stampede  itself,  she  had  quite 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  95 

lost  desire  to  wait  through  the  rest  of  the  play.  It 
was  now  her  fixed  design  to  regain  Josie  and  urge 
the  plan  of  an  immediate  return  to  Greenpoint.  Her 
sense  of  having  met  her  father's  known  wishes  with 
overt  disrespect  had  become  an  assailant  self-re 
proach.  The  very  harshness  of  the  event  which  had 
so  rudely  broken  in  upon  her  enjoyment  seemed  to 
have  borrowed  its  disrelish  from  the  rebuke  that 
she  had  known  as  waiting  all  along  to  shame  her. 
Providence,  for  the  time,  had  gone  with  her  father ; 
it  had  abetted  him ;  it  had'  been  telling  her,  in  stern 
terms  of  personal  threat,  how  flagrant  was  her  filial 
disloyalty. 

She  searched  for  Josie,  but  found  her  nowhere 
visible.  She  had  soon  reached  the  limit  of  the  large 
passage.  A  gate  now  confronted  her,  where  a  man 
waited,  ready  to  give  those  who  sought  egress  a  strip 
of  cardboard  insuring  their  readmission. 

Claire  took  this  guarantee  of  further  diversion  un 
consciously.  The  man  had  stood  at  his  post  through 
all  the  furor  that  had  just  ended.  He  was  a  sort  of 
new  Horatius  at  the  bridge,  though  possibly  with 
less  sublime  motive,  his  wage  being  a  permanent 
annuity,  and  his  position  one  of  easy  proximity  to 
Broadway. 

Claire  stood  in  the  vestibule  of  the  theatre,  and 
felt  the  breeze  from  the  street  blow  on  her  heated 
face,  before  she  was  well  aware  just  what  vantage  of 
exit  she  had  secured.  Still  she  had  not  seen  Josie. 
And  she  now  began  to  realize  that  there  was  a  very 
strong  chance  of  not  seeing  Josie.  True,  the  girl 
might  have  returned  with  Mr.  MacNab  to  their 
former  seats  in  the  second  gallery  of  the  theatre. 
But  Claire's  reluctance  to  place  herself  again  within 


96  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

the  walls  of  the  building  had  by  this  time  grown  a 
fierce  distaste.  Meanwhile,  Slocumb  had  maintained 
an  unrelenting  nearness  to  her.  She  knew  this  per 
fectly  well.  If  possible,  a  more  meagre  means  than 
the  extreme  corner  of  each  eye  had  told  her  of  it ; 
for  so  great  was  her  repugnance  that  she  had  thus 
far  grudged  him  even  the  knowledge  of  receiving  the 
most  minute  regard.  But  now  she  was  forced  to 
turn  and  look  at  him. 

"  Do  you  think  Josie  can  have  gone  back  into  the 
theatre?"  she  asked,  not  being  herself  aware  just 
what  frost  and  distance  she  had  put  into  voice  and 
manner. 

"  Dunno,"  said  Slocumb.  "  Guess  she  ain't,  though. 
Guess  her  an'  him  's  out  there  in  the  crowd."  The 
crowd  to  which  he  referred  was  already  dense,  and 
every  moment  increasing.  It  flooded  the  flag-stones 
and  a  portion  of  the  middle  street.  Three  or  four 
policemen  were  stirring  it  to  the  needful  sense  of  de 
corum,  no  less  by  application  than  menace  of  their 
clubs. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  should  never  find  her  there,"  Claire 
said,  hopelessly. 

"  That 's  so,"  quickly  returned  Slocumb.  "  You  'd 
better  come  inside  agin.  The  scare  '11  be  over  in  a 
minnit.  The  piece  '11  go  on,  'fore  long,  certain  sure." 

"  I  don't  care  for  the  piece,"  replied  Claire,  with  a 
little  toss  of  the  head,  more  anxious  than  imperious. 
"  I  don't  want  to  see  the  rest  of  it.  I  want  to  find 
Josie,  and  have  her  take  me  home  at  once." 

"  All  right.    Jus'  step  inside  an'  wait  fur  'em  both." 

Claire  looked  straight  at  the  speaker.  She  did  not 
know  of  the  droop  in  each  full-fringed  lid  of  her 
beautiful  eyes.  It  was  an  unconscious  token  of  her 
abhorrence. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  97 

"  Suppose  that  they  should  not  return,"  she 
said. 

"  All  right,"  replied  Slocumb,  brutally  impervious. 
"/  'II  take  yer  home,  if  they  don't." 

"  Thank  you,"  faltered  Claire.  This  view  of  the 
question  gave  her  a  new  shock.  It  was  like  hearing 
that  the  ferry-boats  between  New  York  and  Green- 
point  had  stopped  running  for  the  night.  u  But  I 
won't  trouble  you,"  she  added,  trying  to  make  her 
voice  and  mien  indifferently  calm.  "  I  will  wait  here 
a  little  while,  and  then,  if  I  don't  find  Josie,  I  will  go 
home  alone." 

"Go  home  alone?"  repeated  Slocumb,  with  a  sort 
of  sympathetic  interrogation  that  was  detestable  to 
her.  "  Why,  how  far  is  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  very  far,"  she  replied,  turning  her  back 
on  him,  and  feeling  that  in  another  moment  she 
might  treat  his  offensive  persistence  with  the  blunt 
rigor  it  deserved. 

"•  I  thought  you  was  livin'  over  to  Green  point," 
said  Slocumb,  shifting  with  tough  pertinacity  round 
to  her  side. 

What  a  man  of  cleaner  life  and  thought  would 
simply  have  praised  as  sweet  and  chaste  about  her 
fired  in  this  corrupt  oaf  his  one  gross  substitute  for 
sentiment.  She  could  no  more  appeal  to  him  by  her 
fineness  of  line,  coloring,  or  movement  than  the  field- 
flower  when  cropped  by  the  brute  mouth  whose  ap 
petite  its  very  grace  and  perfume  may  perhaps  whet. 
And  Claire  divined  this.  Pure  things  know  im 
pure  ones,  all  through  the  large  scheme  of  nature. 
There  are  nicer  grades  of  intelligence,  of  course,  as 
we  move  along  the  upward  scale  of  such  antago 
nisms.  The  milk  will  not  cloud  till  we  dilute  it  with 
7 


98  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

the  ink-drop,  but  a  white  soul  can  usually  note  a 
black  one  by  earlier  and  wiser  signals  of  alarm. 

"  Why  should  I  not  go  home  alone  ?  "  Claire  had 
been  saying  to  herself.  "  No  one  would  know  me  — 
I  could  reach  the  Tenth  Street  Ferry  —  I  could  ask 
some  one,  and  get  the  right  car  —  Yes,  I  will  try  no 
more  to  find  Josie  —  I  will  break  away  from  this  low 
creature  —  I  have  enough  money  to  bring  me  safely 
home  —  I  don't  care  ;  I  will  take  my  chances  and  slip 
off  —  he  will  not  follow  me  when  he  sees  me  shun 
him  like  that." 

She  ignored  his  last  remark.  She  did  not  even 
glance  at  him  where  he  now  stood.  Her  gaze  was 
fixed  on  the  crowd,  and  she  was  watching  to  find  a 
brief  break  in  its  edge,  through  which  she  might  flit 
and  be  lost.  The  next  instant  such  a  chance  came. 
Claire  seized  it.  She  made  an  oblique  dart  through 
the  large  doorway,  slanted  her  nimble  steps  across 
the  pavement,  and  was  soon  breasting  the  adverse 
tide,  so  to  speak,  of  a  little  human  sea.  Each  man 
or  woman  stood  in  the  place  of  a  choppy,  obstructive 
wave.  At  every  moment  poor  Claire  found  herself 
gently  buffeting  a  new  impediment,  male  or  female, 
as  the  case  might  be.  Since  she  wanted  to  move  in 
a  course  different  from  that  of  nearly  every  one  be 
fore  or  beside  her,  the  carrying  out  of  her  object  in 
volved  a  good  amount  of  determined  propulsion.  But 
she  at  length  gained  the  open,  as  it  were.  She  had 
now  only  to  strike  along  in  a  northerly  direction 
until  she  reached  the  point  at  which  a  certain  line  of 
small  cars  crossed  Broadway.  She  was  not  sure  at 
just  what  street  this  intersection  occurred  ;  she  knew 
that  it  was  by  no  means  near  by.  A  cumbrous  om 
nibus  rolled  clamorously  toward  her,  and  for  a  ino- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN".  99 

ment  she  was  inclined  to  hail  it ;  but  a  swift  look 
into  its  lighted  space,  well  freighted  with  passengers, 
made  her  shrink  from  the  concentration  of  stares  that 
her  sex  and  loneliness  must  equally  provoke.  The 
publicity  of  the  long,  lamp-fringed  sidewalk,  with  its 
incidents  of  potential  if  not  always  tangible  police 
men,  expressed,  after  all,  a  more  secure  privacy. 
When  she  took  one  of  the  little  trundling  cars  which 
would  bring  her  eastward  to  the  ferry,  she  would  not 
be  forced  to  clamber  and  stoop  and  stagger  before 
getting  a  seat.  Their  mode  of  conveyance,  too,  would 
be  somehow  more  safely  plebeian  ;  they  would  hold 
their  last  fragments  of  the  work-a-day  world  going 
back  to  Greenpoint ;  in  case  of  insult,  she  might  have 
her  final  appeal  to  some  reputable  occupant  bound 
for  the  same  destination  as  herself. 

Meanwhile,  the  big-bodied  omnibus  clattered  by. 
Claire  had  resolved  to  walk.  The  high -perched 
driver  had  not  seen  her  pause,  hurry  to  the  curb 
stone,  and  then  lift  a  hand  which  was  straightway 
dropped  at  the  bidding  of  her  changed  mood.  But 
this  action,  while  it  wrought  delay  in  her  progress, 
rendered  somewhat  earlier  her  meeting  with*  one  who 
still  obstinately  pursued  her.  Just  as  she  had  again 
started,  with  slightly  quickened  pace,  the  inextermi- 
nable  Slocumb  appeared  at  her  side.  He  seemed  to 
have  used  no  effort  in  catching  up  with  her.  There 
was  a  terrible  ease  in  the  way  his  length  of  limb  ac 
commodated  its  free  stride  to  Claire's  more  repressed 
motions.  He  had  not  immediately  given  chase.  She 
had  got  rather  deep  into  the  crowd  about  the  theatre- 
doors  before  his  impudence,  positive  as  it  always  was, 
had  trumped  up  sufficient  real  nerve  to  follow  her. 
Claire  continued  walking  ;  but  she  looked  at  him 


100  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

with  fixity  as  she  said,  "  I  suppose  you  saw  that  1 
wanted  to  go  alone." 

"  'T  aiut  right,  nohow,"  he  replied,  peering  into 
her  face  with  his  bad,  hard  eyes.  "  A  putty  gal  like 
you  had  n't  ought  t'  walk  the  streets  all  by  herself 
after  dark.  You  lemme  go  along.  Don'  look  scared ; 
I  would  n't  hurt  ye  fur  a  cent." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid  of  you,"  said  Claire,  between 
her  teeth.  "  Why  should  I  be  ?  " 

"  That  's  the  ticket.     W'y  should  ye  be  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  your  company.  I  have  shown  this 
to  you,  and  now  I  tell  it  to  you." 

Slocumb  laughed.,  It  seemed  to  Claire  that  his 
laugh  had  the  cold  of  ice  and  the  thrust  of  steel  in  it. 
His  lowered  arm  touched  hers  with  intentional  pres 
sure,  but  she  swerved  sideways,  at  once  thwarting 
the  contact.  He,  however,  promptly  narrowed  the 
distance  thus  made  between  .them. 

"Say  !  "  he  now  broke  forth,  in  peculiar,  confiden 
tial  undertone,  as  though  a  third  party  were  listen 
ing.  "  W'at  ye  mad  fur,  hey  ?  You  was  along  with 
Jimmy  MacNab,  was  n't  ye  ?  An'  was  n't  we  intrer- 
dooced  all  reg'lar  ?  I  'm  a  better  feller  'n  Jim,  any 
day  in  the  year.  Jus'  gimme  a  show.  Won't  ye  ? 
Say,  now,  won't  ye  ?  I  took  a  dead  shine  to  you  the 
minnit  I  clapped  eyes  on  them  two  nice  pink  cheeks 
—  blowed  if  I  did  n't !  I  sez  to  myself,  '  She  can  walk 
round  any  gal  I  've  seen  fur-  a  devil  of  a  time,'  I  sez." 

Claire  looked  straight  ahead.  She  still  went 
quickly  along.  Her  feet  and  limbs  felt  light,  almost 
void  of  sense.  Fear  had  to  do  with  this,  and  she 
was  keenly  frightened.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life 
she  knew  the  terror  that  feminine  honesty  has  when 
fronted  with  the  close  chance  of  physical  insult. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  101 

Slocumb  justified  her  dread.  He  had  no  more  re 
gard  for  common  laws  of  restraint  than  the  majority 
of  untamed  brutes,  when  conscious,  as  in  his  case,  of 
firm  thews  and  active  bulk.  As  for  moral  bravery, 
his  nature  harbored  no  concern  with  such  nicer  ele 
ments.  The  only  vices  he  did  not  possess  were  those 
for  which  he  had  never  known  an  hour  of  temptation. 
His  father  had  drank  himself  to  death,  and  he  in 
herited  what  was  perhaps  an  embryo  taste  in  the 
sam^  direction.  He  got  drunk  once  a  fortnight,  now, 
in  his  twenty-seventh  year,  whereas,  two  years  ago, 
these  diversions  had  been  much  rarer ;  in  a  decade, 
under  his  uncontrolled  conditions,  there  was  a  fair 
chance  of  his  becoming  a  sot.  To  speak  more  gener 
ally,  the  vast  social  momentum  of  heredity,  which 
seems  to  be  so  plainly  understood  and  so  ill  appreci 
ated  in  our  golden  century,  had  Slocumb  well  in  its 
stern  grip.  There  were  no  outward  incident  forces,  as 
the  philosophic  phrase  goes,  to  make  his  case  in  any 
way  a  hopeful  one.  He  had  seen  Claire ;  he  had  ex 
changed  a  word  with  her  ;  he  had  liked  her.  If  his 
liking  were  put  in  the  baldest  form  of  explanation  it 
would  have  to  deal  with  rather  darksome  realisms. 
And  it  is  always  preferable  that  the  pursuant  satyr 
and  the  unwilling  nymph  be  treated  wholly  from  the 
poetic  and  picturesque  point  of  view. 

Claire  would  not  speak.  She  was  very  frightened, 
as  before  has  been  recorded :  she  seemed  to  see,  be 
tween  the  gloomy  interspaces  of  the  lamps,  a  phan 
tasmal  semblance  of  her  father,  looking  untold  re 
buke  at  her,  and  then  vanishing  only  to  reappear. 
She  walked  onward  with  fLet  energy.  An  idea  shot 
through  her  mind  that  she  might  call  a  policeman  to 
rid  her  of  this  incubus.  E  at  she  dismissed  the  idea 


102  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

at  once.  It  was  too  savagely  desperate  even  for  the 
confronting  dilemma. 

By  this  time  Slocumb  had  begun  to  see  plainly 
that  Claire  was  proof  against  all  his  known  methods 
of  conquest.  But  she  was  unprotected,  and  he  had 
a  dogged  dislike  of  giving  up  the  siege.  The  silence 
continued  for  nearly  five  blocks.  During  this  time 
his  eyes  scarcely  once  left  her  face,  gleaming  distinct 
or  dim  as  the  lamplight  waxed  or  waned. 

"  Say  !  "  he  at  length  re-addressed  her.  "  Ain't  ye 
hungry  ?  I  was  thinkin'  a  stew  would  go  putty  good, 
just  now,  or  a  dish  o'  ice-cream.  P'r'aps  ye  'd  rather 
tackle  sumpn  sweet.  Hey  ?  " 

She  made  no  answer.  He  .peered  closer  into  her 
face,  and  repeated  the  last  odious  little  interrogative 
monosyllable  a  good  many  times.  But  Claire  re 
mained  as  mute  and  irresponsive  as  though  it  had 
fallen  on  stone-deaf  ears. 

This  lure  suddenly  held  out  to  appetite  was  his 
last  persuasive  stroke.  It  sprang  naturally  enough 
from  the  man  who  dealt  it.  It  expressed  in  the  most 
exhaustive  terms  just  how  narrow  and  barren  his 
conception  was  of  Claire's  reasons  for  shunning  him. 
He  stood  as  the  hideous  result  of  a  hideous  phase  of 
society ;  and  he  could  no  more  divine  or  imagine 
higher  and  richer  levels  of  life  than  if  to  know  of 
these  had  meant  to  be  familiar  with  the  soil  and 
climates  of  a  remote  star. 

He  was  disappointed  and  chagrined,  but  not  angry. 
Anger  could  not  consort  with  his  present  state ;  an 
other  kind  of  heat  already  filled  his  veins ;  one  flush 
kept  the  other  aloof.  He  had  now  decided  that 
Claire  was  not  to  be  conciliated,  and  yet  the  perfect 
lawlessness  of  his  past  made  him  in  a  manner  unable 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  103 

to  snap  the  bond  of  attraction  and  leave  her.  Self- 
control  was  a  sealed  book  to  him ;  he  had  not  even 
opened  its  cover,  apart  from  learning  its  rudimentary 
lessons. 

When  they  had  gone  five  or  six  blocks  further,  and 
the  street  at  which  Claire  would  take  the  cross-town 
car  was  by  no  means  far  away,  he  abruptly  caught 
her  arm  and  drew  it  close  to  his  side,  so  holding  it 
with  an  exertion  of  purely  muscular  strength,  beside 
which  her  own  resistance  counted  for  little  more  than 
the  flutter  of  a  bird. 

Even  at  this  most  trying  juncture  she  still  moved 
on.  He  continued  to  walk,  as  well.  She  veered  her 
face  toward  his,  however,  forced  out  of  all  her  pre 
vious  pitiful  disdain,  and  he  saw  that  she  had  grown 
pale  as  death. 

"  Let  me  go,"  she  said.  "  Don't  dare  to  hold  me 
like  this  ! " 

"  Look  here ! "  he  returned,  his  tones  taking  a 
nasal  whisper,  and  his  breath  sweeping  so  close  to 
her  nostrils  that  she  caught  in  it  a  stale  taint,  as  of 
liquor  drank  some  time  ago.  "  I  would  n't  harm  a 
hair  o'  your  head  ;  you  can  jus'  bet  on  that.  I  've 
took  a  likin'  to  you,  an'  I  '11  treat  ye  good.  If  you 
wus  a  lady  livin'  up  t'  Fifth  Avenyer,  ye  would  n't 
git  more  respectfuller  behaved  to  nur  I  '11  do." 

"  If  you  don't  let  me  go,"  said  Claire,  gasping  a 
little  as  she  got  out  the  words,  "I  '11  complain  to  the 
first  policeman  we  meet." 

He  dropped  her  arm  at  once,  stopping*  short. 
"D'  ye  mean  it?"  he  asked,  with  great  show  of  re 
proach.  "  Say  !  d'  ye  mean  it  ?  " 

But  Claire  hurried  on.  She  had  a  wild  momentary 
Jjope  that  slie  had  hit  at  random  upon  a  blessed  source 


104  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

of  deliverance.  Here,  however,  she  had  quite  mis 
calculated.  Slocumb's  outburst  had  merely  formed 
a  bit  of  the  cheap  sentimentality  which  one  of  his 
race  and  stamp  would  select  as  the  lame  makeshift  in 
a  forlorn  cause. 

It  chanced  that  when  Claire  reached  the  desired 
corner  a  car  was  opportunely  passing.  She  signaled 
to  it ;  the  driver  saw  her ;  it  stopped,  and  she  entered 
it.  Meanwhile  Slocumb  had  kept  at  her  side,  though 
with  the  distance  between  them  materially  widened. 
She  paid  no  heed  to  the  question  of  whether  or  not 
he  entered  with  her.  The  car  was  entirely  empty  as 
she  took  her  seat.  A  little  later  she  slipped  a.  five- 
cent  piece  into  the  small  glass  repository  for  passen 
gers'  fares  —  that  touching  proof  of  the  confidence 
reposed  in  drivers  by  those  who  employ  them. 
Shortly  afterward  she  saw  Slocumb  standing  on  the 
outer  platform.  Her  heart  and  courage  almost  failed 
her,  then.  He  presently  walked  inside  the  car,  and 
paid  his  fare,  as  she  had  done.  She  expected  him  to 
sit  down  and  resume  his  persecutions,  but  he  did 
neither.  He  went  out  again  and  stood  on  the  plat 
form. 

The  little  car  jingled  along  Eighth  Street.  It 
passed  the  grim,  bastard  architecture  of  the  Mercan 
tile  Library,  once,  long  ago,  an  opera  house,  in  which 
Steffenone  sang  to  assemblages  where  a  gentleman 
in  evening-dress  or  a  lady  without  her  bonnet  was 
a  rare  enough  incident,  and  nothing  prophesied  the 
horse-shoe  of  resplendent  boxes  before  which  Patti 
and  Nilsson  have  since  revealed  their  vocal  charms. 
Soon  afterward  it  came  to  Third  Avenue,  easily  be 
trayed  by  the  flare  of  gaslight  in  beer-saloon  or  liquor- 
shop,  and  a  thoroughfare  in  which  night  revelry  seems 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  105 

to  hare  claimed  especial  stronghold.  Near  at  hand, 
that  hideous  monument  of  philanthropy,  tho  Cooper 
Union,  frowns  its  unavailing  displeasure  upon  the 
malt  of  Schneider  and  the  alcohol  of  Moriarty,  both 
of  which  project  their  noxious  forces  southward 
through  the  Bowery  to  the  City  Hall,  and  northward 
across  many  reputable  side  streets  on  to  the  shabby 
vulgarity  of  Harlem. 

But  Claire  was  naturally  unprepared,  just  now, 
either  to  recognize  or  ponder  the  importance  of  this 
great  popular  boulevard  which  we  call  Third  Avenue ; 
how  it  blends  our  ruling  Irish  and  German  elements 
in  one  huge  strand  of  commercial  interests,  each  petty 
by  itself,  yet  all,  when  massed  together,  of  enormous 
metropolitan  note;  how  its  very  name  is  pronounced 
with  a  mild  sneer  by  our  so-called  better  classes  ;  how 
it  is  held  common  and  of  ill  repute ;  how  one  must 
not  speak  of  it  in  a  Fifth  Avenue  drawing-room,  lest 
he  shall  be  suspected  of  having  trodden  its  tainted 
pavements  ;  and  yet  how  there  pulses  through  its  big, 
tough  artery  nearly  all  the  hot,  impure  political  blood 
that  feeds  the  venality  of  our  elective  systems,  mak 
ing  it  for  this  reason  a  fact  to  be  always  deplored 
but  never  lightly  dismissed.  Should  the  sombre 
growl  against  that  sin  of  over-possession  which  we 
term  monopoly  ever  grow  into  a  revolutionary  roar, 
it  is  very  thinkable  that  the  Robespierre  of  such  an 
event  would  be  born  in  Third  Avenue ;  but  if  not, 
he  might  safely  be  depended  on  for  having  near  re 
lations  there.  The  little  car  presently  crossed  Second 
Avenue,  at  its  most  quiet  portion.  All  the  garish 
brilliance  had  now  quite  vanished.  Once  beloved  of 
respectability,  this  broad  street,  here  in  what  we 
designate  its  lower  portion,  has  preserved  abundant 


106  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

souvenirs  of  perished  fame.  Many  of  the  roomy  old 
mansions  that  line  it  may  be  dispeopled  of  their  pris 
tine  Knickerbockers,  but  even  these  retain  much  of 
their  old  stately  repose.  Up  beyond,  the  tenement- 
house  thrives,  and  the  tavern  flaunts  a  bottle-decked 
casement ;  but  here,  within  generous  limits,  it  re 
mains  a  quarter  full  of  decent  though  not  dismal 
gloom,  and  touched  with  an  occasional  solid  grandeur. 
The  car  soon  advanced  into  a  very  different  region. 
It  had  reached  one  of  the  two  long  if  not  deep  river- 
edges  which  skirt  the  central  domain  of  our  wealth 
and  thrift.  That  squalor  which  dogs  the  heel  of 
poverty  was  everywhere  manifest.  The  very  street- 
lamps  seemed  to  burn  with  a  dejected  flicker.  Night, 
however,  Vvas  kind,  and  spared  from  view  much  un 
sightly  soilure.  The  high  brick  houses,  thronged 
with  inmates  whom  all  degrees  of  want  and  all  modes 
of  toil  oppressed,  lost  themselves  in  shadow  ;  but  now 
and  then  you  caught  glimpses  of  the  liquid  filth  clog 
ging  the  gutters,  and  perhaps  of  a  half-submerged 
cabbage-leaf  or  a  more  buoyant  egg-shell,  to  fleck  its 
slime  with  baleful  color.  Here  spoke  a  crying  mu 
nicipal  disgrace.  The  prosperous  part  of  our  city 
has  its  streets  kept  cleanly  throughout  the  year,  but 
dread  injustice  is  wreaked  upon  these  that  are  skirted 
by  abodes  of  penury  and  need.  Fat  appropriations 
are  of  no  avail ;  the  tax-money  slips  into  fingers  that 
are  deft  in  legerdemain  ;  fraud  and  mismanagement 
meet  as  friends ;  it  is  not  enough  that  our  beautiful 
island  must  crowd  her  shores  with  all  the  disfeaturing 
accompaniments  of  commerce;  she  is  forced,  as  well, 
to  see  them  polluted,,  far  inland,  by  the  foulness  born 
of  bad  legislation.  This  is  one  of  the  too  frequent 
cases  where,  in  our  enlightened  polity,  democracy 
plays  wantonly  into  the  hands  of  monurcUism. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  107 

A  little  later  the  car  came  into  a  wide,  airy  ex 
panse,  along  two  of  whose  sides  it  journeyed  for  a 
considerable  distance.  Here  was  Tompkins  Square, 
now  lighted  with  innumerable  lamps,  but  only  a  few 
years  ago  a  dark  horror  to  all  decent  citizens  living 
near  it.  By  day  set  aside  as  a  parade-ground  for  the 
city  militia,  which  paraded  there  scarcely  twice  a 
year,  its  lampless  lapse  of  earth  was  by  night  at  least 
four  good  acres  of  brooding  gloom,  which  he  who 
ventured  to  cross  stood  the  risk  of  thievish  assault,  if 
nothing  more  harmful.  What  added  to  the  unique 
repulsiveness  of  the  place  for  peace-loving  denizens 
of  its  near  streets,  was  an  occasional  concourse  of 
growling  and  saturnine  German  socialists,  held  with 
stormy  harangues  and  blood-thirsty  diatribes  under, 
moon  or  star,  and  amid  the  congenial  environing 
shadow,  which  was  relieved,  on  these  lurid  occasions, 
by  torches  whose  fitful  flames  typified  the  feverish 
theories  disclosed. 

But  the  car  now  passed  a  very  different  Tompkins 
Square  from  that  of  old.  The  grim  blank  has  be 
come,  since  then,  a  bright-lit  realm  where  the  tramp 
may  fall  prone  on  some  of  its  many  neat -built 
benches,  but  where  the  highwayman  will  find  slim 
chance  to  ply  his  fell  trade.  When  this  region  had 
been  passed  there  remained  only  a  brief  space  to  be 
traversed  before  the  ferry  was  reached.  The  avenues 
by  this  time  had  ceased  to  be  numerically  named  ; 
they  had  become  alphabetical.  But  Avenues  A,  B, 
C,  and  D  are  all  quite  homogeneous  as  regards  dolor 
ous  discomfort.  The  city  here  hides  some  of  its 
worst  lairs,  and  many  a  desperado  infests  them.  Af 
ter  a  little  journey,  such  as  Claire  now  took,  you  gain 
the  small,  dull-looking  ferry. 


108  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Meanwhile  seven  or  eight  new  passengers  had  en 
tered  the  car.  They  were  mostly  Germans,  and  of 
both  sexes.  Claire  felt  a  sense  of  protection.  One; 
stout  woman,  of  truly  colossal  build,  with  a  sleeping 
baby  in  her  arms  and  an  evident  husband  so  hollow- 
cheeked  and  slight  that  it  seemed  wrong  for  him  even 
to  assume  the  responsibility  of  paying  their  double 
fare,  especially  reassured  her.  The  rest  were  com 
monplace  people  enough.  One  was  a  weary  work- 
girl;  one  was  a  collier,  grimy  with  his  trade  and 
drowsy  from  drink  ;  one  was  a  dapper,  bejeweled 
Hebrew,  with  oily  amber  whiskers  and  large,  loose 
red  lips ;  still  another  was  a  handsome  young  woman, 
smartly  geared,  who  had  said  good-night,  on  entering, 
to  a  male  escort,  and  who  now  glanced  uneasily  about 
her  at  intervals,  as  though  fearful  of  being  known.  All 
this  while  Slocumb  remained  on  the  outer  platform. 

Presently  the  car  stopped.  Everybody  alighted. 
The  Tenth  Street  Ferry  was  close  at  hand.  Claire 
knew  that  her  hateful  adherent  was  close  at  hand 
also.  She  paid  her  toll  to  the  ferryman  and  glided 
through  the  narrow  bit  of  passage-way  forth  upon 
the  long  dark  dock  beyond.  She  expected,  at  every 
new  step,  to  be  re-accosted  by  Slocumb.  A  boat 
had  landed,  and  was  soon  to  disembark  again.  From 
the  opposite  dimness  came  an  ominous  clank  of 
chains,  made  by  the  men  at  either  of  the  two  wheels, 
and  a  sudden  "  All  aboard  !  "  flung  out  in  gruff  tones 
as  a  stimulating  monition.  The  other  passengers  all 
hastened  forward.  Claire  was  among  them,  though 
in  the  rear  of  the  hurry.  The  foremost  had  gained 
the  boat,  when  she  felt  a  strong  clutch  upon  her  arm. 
Compelled  by  sheer  force  to  pause,  now,  she  turned, 
meeting  Slocumb's  face  quite  near  her  own.  He  at 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  109 

once  spoke,  in  the  same  intimate  sort  of  whisper  that 
she  had  before  found  so  distressing. 

"  Say !  '  T  ain't  right  t'  shake  me  like  this.  I  ain't 
goin'  t'  stand  it,  either.  Come,  change  your  mind. 
Treat  me  square.  Will  ye  ?  " 

Claire,  driven  to  bay,  did  what  her  sex  is  some 
times  held  by  a  few  renowned  cynics  as  having  a  spe 
cial  talent  for  doing ;  she  employed  stratagem. 

Her  voice  shook  as  she  said  :  "  Very  well.  What 
is  it  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  " 

She  could  feel  the  tense  grasp  upon  her  arm  relax 
a  little.  This  was  just  the  kind  of  result  she  had 
aimed  for. 

"  I  want  ye  t'  stay  this  side  the  river  a  spell  yet, 
an'  we  '11  eat  somepn  somewhere.  Hey  ?  " 

The  fingers  about  her  arm  had  acquired  a  fondling 
laxity  that  half  sickened  her.  But  she  waited  a  little. 
They  were  a  good  ten  yards  from  the  boat.  It  was 
possible  that  both  their  figures  were  too  shadowed 
for  the  men  at  the  chains  to  see  them.  Perhaps, 
on  the  other  hand,  these  wardens  did  not  care  to 
shout  a  final  notice  that  the  boat  was  now  unmoored. 

Claire  still  chose  to  temporize.  Her  heart  beat  so 
that  it  seemed  about  to  burst  through  her  side  ;  but 
she  nevertheless  kept  her  brain  clear  enough  to  main 
tain  a  subtlety  of  intent  in  strange  contrast  to  her 
deep  fear. 

She  had  determined  to  get  free  if  she  could,  and 
find  refuge  among  the  passengers  on  the  boat.  Here, 
in  the  lonely  dusk  of  the  dock,  she  was  at  a  sad  dis 
advantage  ;  but  once  within  the  lighted  cabin  of  the 
boat,  she  could  find  the  same  silent  protection  of 
mere  surrounding  that  the  ear  had  afforded.  She 
had  a  latent  resolve,  also,  of  future  appeal  to  some  of 


110  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

those  whom  she  knew  had  preceded  her,  though  this 
formed  no  real  part  of  her  present  quick  -  formed 
scheme. 

"  Suppose  that  I  do  go  with  you,"  she  said.  "  At 
what  time  would  I  be  able  to  get  home  ?  " 

Slocumb's  grasp  materially  loosened.  "  Why,  any 
time  at  all ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  The  boats  run  till 
'bout  two  o'clock  or  so,  an'  "  — 

His  sentence  was  cut  short  in  its  valuable  expla 
nation  by  a  sudden  disengaging  spring  on  the  part  of 
Claire.  She  ran  with  her  best  speed  toward  the 
boat.  She  now  perceived  that  it  was  just  leaving 
the  pier.  By  the  time  that  she  had  gained  almost 
the  extreme  edge  of  the  latter,  a  voice  from  the  re 
ceding  boat  itself  cried  out  to  her,  "  Don't  jump  !" 

She  saw,  then,  that  a  long,  curved  crevice  was 
widening  in  a  very  rapid  way  at  a  slight  space  be 
yond  the  spot  where  she  had  abruptly  halted.  A 
few  more  seconds  would  make  the  leap  a  mere  mad 
ness  ;  now  it  needed  nerve,  agility,  and  was  indeed 
a  venture.  But  Slocumb  stood  behind  her.  The 
risk  was  worth  the  prize.  Claire  waited  perhaps  ten 
seconds  ;  the  crevice  had  grown  a  fissure ;  she  saw 
the  murky  water  give  a  dull  flash  or  two,  far  below 
it.  Then  she  jumped. 

The  space  had  not  been  more  than  three  feet.  She 
cleared  it  well.  But  what  she  had  cleared  sent  a 
sharp  terror  through  her  the  instant  after  both  feet 
had  touched  the  firm  bourne  of  the  deck.  For  a  lit 
tle  while  she  stood  quite  still,  shivering,  with  her 
back  to  the  dock  thus  boldly  quitted.  Her  mind  was 
wholly  in  a  whirl.  She  did  not  hear  the  half-growled 
words  of  one  of  the  men  who  had  lately  unloosed  the 
boat,  chiding  her  upon  her  folly,  in  gruff  contempt  of 
syntax. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  Ill 

But  very  soon  this  access  of  intense  alarm  lessened. 
She  partly  ceased  to  fix  her  thought  upon  what  she 
had  done,  recalling  instead,  why  she  had  done  it. 
She  turned,  giving  two  flurried  looks  to  right  and 
left,  doubtless  from  a  sense  that  the  abhorred  one 
might  have  breasted  the  same  peril  as  herself  —  in 
his  case  far  lighter,  of  course. 

Her  gaze  swept  the  opposite  pier.  It  gleamed 
drowsy  and  obscure,  with  the  effect  of  some  grave 
marine  monster  just  risen  from  the  muddy  tides  be 
low  it.  Strangely,  also,  the  lights  at  either  side  gave 
it  the  semblance  of  two  malign"  blazing  eyes.  And 
in  the  glimmer  thus  made  Claire  saw  Slocumb. 

He  had  not  taken  the  leap.  At  first  amazement 
had  wrought  in  him  its  brief  yet  telling  effect. 
Then  he  had  dashed  to  the  end  of  the  pier,  momen 
tarily  furious  at  thus  being  balked.  But  in  a  second 
his  fury  had  cooled.  And  something  had  cooled  it, 
very  new  to  him,  though  very  forcible.  This  was 
pity.  He  might  easily  have  cleared  the  interspace. 
But  he  forbore  to  do  so.  He  thrust  both  hands  into 
his  pockets,  and  with  lowered  head  moved  away.  In 
an  instant  more  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  have 
changed  his  novel  resolve,  even  had  he  so  wished. 

By  the  time  that  Claire's  look  lighted  upon  the 
pier  he  was  nowhere  visible.  He  had  disappeared 
from  her  sight  forever,  as  also  from  her  life.  He  had 
been  a  dread  though  brief  experience  —  a  glimpse 
given  her  into  the  melancholy  darkness  of  human 
wrong.  The  shadows  had  seemed  to  take  him  back 
among  themselves,  where  he  rightly  belonged.  Per 
haps  the  episode  of  his  insolence  wrought  some  sort 
of  effect  upon  her  future  acts  ;  it  is  certain  that  she 
never  quite  forgot  the  miserable  dismay  he  had 


112  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

roused  ;  and  when  the  struggle  for  worldly  success 
afterward  spurred  her  with  so  keen  a  goad,  some 
vague  remembrance  of  to-night  may  have  quickened 
her  aspiring  impulses  and  made  what  we  call  the  so 
cially  best  gain  fresh  worth  in  her  eyes  by  contrast 
with  such  foul  deeps  as  lie  below  it. 

Once  confident  that  Slocumb  had  not  followed  her, 
she  managed,  with  unsteady  pace,  to  reach  the  outer 
rail  of  the  deck  and  lean  against  it  while  the  boat 
traversed  the  river.  She  was  trembling  a  good  deal, 
and  felt  an  extreme  weakness  as  well.  But  a  glow 
of  triumph  upbore  her.  She  had  escaped  at  last ! 

The  ugly  boat,  as  it  sped  along,  seemed  a  sentient 
accomplice  of  her  final  good  fortune.  She  had  a 
fancy  that  its  thick  wooden  rail  dumbly  throbbed  be 
neath  her  grasp.  Her  posture  was  a  half-cowering 
one  ;  the  spell  of  her  poignant  fears  had  not  yet 
passed.  Her  head  leaned  itself  peeringly  from 
stooped  shoulders  in  such  a  way  that  its  slim  neck 
took  the  sort  of  curve  we  see  in  a  frightened  deer's. 

A  somewhat  late  moon  had  recently  risen,  whose 
advent  had  altered  the  whole  face  of  the  heavens, 
flooding  it  with  a  spectral,  yellowish  light.  But 
borne  rapidly  across  the  moon's  blurred  disk,  on  some 
high,  fleet  rush  of  air,  scudded  volumes  of  rolling  and 
mutable  vapor.  They  constantly  soared  above  the 
great  dusky  city,  at  first  in  dense  black  masses,  then 
thinning  and  lengthening  as  they  came  midway  be 
tween  zenith  and  horizon.  While  Claire  watched 
these  strange  and  volatile  clouds,  so  incessant  in  their 
motion  and  so  swift  in  their  continual  upward  stream, 
they  took,  for  her  confused  fancy,  the  semblance  of 
pursuant  phantom  shapes.  They  formed  themselves 
into  visages  and  bodies ;  they  stretched  forth  uncouth 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  113 

yet  life-like  arms  ;  they  clenched  bands  of  misty 
gloom,  and  shook  them  far  above  her,  with  ghostly, 
imminent  defiance.  Her  former  transit  across  the 
river  had  been  fraught  with  sweet,  poetic  mystery ; 
her  present  voyage  was  one  touched  with  a  kind  of 
allegoric  terror. 

But  the  boat  soon  found  its  second  wharfage. 
Claire  sped  out  through  the  two  cabins  in  time  to 
join  the  crowd  of  disembarking  passengers.  Once 
more  back  in  Greenpoint,  she  hurried  along  certain 
familiar  streets  until  she  arrived  at  her  own  dwelling. 
It  was  now  a  little  after  ten  o'clock.  She  had  an  in 
stinct  that  it  was  about  this  time.  Above  the  high 
piazza,  both  parlor-windows  were  dark,  but  below  it 
the  windows  of  the  basement  portion  were  brightly 
lit.  She  passed  into  the  scant  space  of  garden  and 
sought  the  lower  door ;  she  pulled  the  bell,  set  in  the 
woodwork  at  her  right,  and  waited. 

No  answer  came,  and  she  rang  again.  One  of  the 
side-lights  gave  her  a  good  view  into  the  hall  beyond. 
She  presently  saw  her  mother  appear.  Mrs.  Twining 
opened  the  door.  It  was  not  till  she  and  her  daugh 
ter  stood  face  to  face  that  the  latter  made  a  certain 
sharp,  abrupt  discovery. 

"Mother!"  she  said,  "you're  pale  —  you  look 
very  strange.  Is  it  because  I  staid  away  so  long  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Mrs.  Twining. 

Claire  grasped  her  mother's  arm  with  both  hands. 
"  Then  what  is  -  it  ?  "  she  questioned.  "  You  don't 
mean  that  —  that  Father  's  sick  ?  Do  you  ?  " 

Mrs.  Twining  was  white  as  death,  and  had  dark 
rings  round  her  fine  black  eyes.     She  laughed  with 
great  bitterness  as  she  closed  the  door. 
8 


114  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said.  "  Your  father  ain't  sick, 
Claire." 

These  few  words  teemed,  somehow,  with  a  fright 
ful  irony.  Claire  knew  her  mother's  moods  so  well 
that  she  now  staggered  backward  a  little  as  the  two 
faced  each  other  in  this  narrow  hallway. 

"  Mother,"  she  said,  with  a  gasp,  "  what  do  you 
mean  ?  Has  anything  happened  to  Father  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Twining  with  a  cruelty  that 
Claire  never  forgot  and  never  forgave.  "  Your  fa 
ther  's  dead.  He  died  at  nine  o'clock.  The  doctor  's 
here  now.  He  says  it's  heart-disease.  You're  a 
nice  gadabout,  to  be  off  for  hours,  nobody  knows 
where,  and  come  home  to  find  "... 

Mrs.  Twining  ended  her  sentence  at  just  this 
point,  for  Claire  had  dropped  in  a  swoon  before  the 
next  word  could  be  spoken,  upon  the  oil-cloth  of  the 
little  hall  which  her  own  hands  had  so  often  swept. 


VII. 

THAT  night  was  one  of  anguish  and  horror.  As 
soon  as  enough  strength  had  come  to  her  with  the 
return  of  consciousness,  Claire  insisted  upon  being 
taken  to  where  her  father  lay.  Not  a  tear  left  her 
eyes  as  she  knelt  beside  his  body.  She  was  very 
white,  and  seemed  perfectly  calm.  She  kissed  the 
dead  man,  now  and  then,  on  forehead  and  cheek. 
Once  she  rose,  went  to  the  window,  and  set  both 
arms  lengthwise*  upon  its  sash,  propping  her  chin 
against  her  clasped  hands.  In  this  attitude  she  stared 
forth  at  the  heaven,  still  full  of  moony  light  and  still 
alive  with  its  black  pageantry  of  hurrying  clouds. 
But  their  motion  was  more  quick,  now ;  the  wind 
had  grown  stronger  and  colder ;  all  touch  of  mildness 
was  rapidly  vanishing  from  the  atmosphere.  Claire 
felt  the  panes  shake,  and  heard  them  rattle,  as  she 
leaned  thus.  There  seemed  an  awful  sympathy  be 
tween  this  wild  phase  of  nature  and  her  own  tumult 
uous,  distraught  sensations. 

Grief  and  alarm  clashed  within  her  soul.  She 
could  not  simply  and  passionately  regret  her  father's 
loss,  for  the  thought  of  her  own  friendless  and  pe 
nurious  state  would  thrust  itself  into  her  conscious 
ness.  Her  feelings  of  pure  bereavement,  of  standing 
face  to  face  with  a  vast  and  stern  solitude,  of  having 
had  something  torn  from  her  heart  by  the  roots,  were 


116  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

terrible  enough.  But  none  the  less,  on  this  account, 
could  she  fail  to  think  with  inward  thrills  of  fright 
on  the  subject  of  her  merely  material  future.  In  an 
hour  or  two  something  solidly  defensive  had  been 
shattered  and  swept  away.  Her  father's  protection 
had  kept  aloof,  so  to  speak,  the  huge,  merciless  forces 
of  society.  Now  these  forces  were  rushing  upon  her 
like  yonder  stream  of  antic-shaped  clouds. 

"  What  is  to  become  of  me  ?  "  she  murmured  aloud, 
not  knowing  that  she  spoke  at  all.  "  Who  will  help 
me  ?  Where  shall  I  turn  ?  I  am  so  alone  —  so  fear 
fully  alone !  " 

Mrs.  Twining  had  come  into  the  room,  as  it 
chanced,  a  moment  before  the  utterance  of  Claire's 
first  words.  It  was  now  a  little  before  midnight ;  she 
had  entered  this  chamber  of  death  twice  before,  and 
had  looked  at  her  daughter's  kneeling  figure,  there 
beside  the  corpse,  but  had  retired  again  in  silence. 
Now  she  spoke,  as  Claire  finished  speaking.  The 
girl  turned  instantly  as  she  began. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  in  her  most  hard  and  curt  way. 
"  I  s'pose  you  are  alone,  now  he  Js  gone  !  You  ain't 
got  any  mother,  of  course  not !  She  's  a  cipher  ;  she 
always  was.  You  're  going  to  quit  her,  I  dare  say  ; 
you  're  going  to  leave  her  in  the  lurch.  P'raps  you  '11 
find  some  of  those  you  was  with  to-night  that  '11  see 
you  don't  come  to  grief.  Well,  't  ain't  for  me  to 
complain  at  this  late  day.  I  've  had  chance  enough 
to  take  your  measure,  Miss,  long  ago  !  " 

There  was  a  look  of  dreary  fatigue  on  Claire's 
white  face  as  she  slowly  answered  :  "  Mother,  I  will 
not  leave  you.  I  don't  wish  to  leave  you." 

"  Oh,  you  don't,  eh  ?  Then  why  did  you  say  you 
was  alone  2  " 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  117 

"  Did  I  say  it  ?  "  returned  Claire.  She  put  one 
hand  to  her  forehead.  "I  —  I  must  have  spoken 
aloud  without  knowing  it."  .  .  .  Immediately  after 
ward  she  crossed  the  room,  going  very  close  to  her 
mother's  side,  and  looking  with  eager  meaning  into 
the  cold,  austere,  aquiline  face. 

"  Don't  be  unkind  to-night,"  she  went  on.  "  Re 
member  this  dreadful  thing  that  has  happened.  It 
—  it  ought  to  —  to  soften  you,  Mother.  It  has  nearly 
crazed  me.  I  cannot  reason  ;  I  can  scarcely  think. 
I  —  I  can  only  suffer  !  " 

Mrs.  Twining  curled  her  mouth  in  bitter  dissent. 
"  Oh,  you  did  n't  know  the  poor  man  was  sick  when 
you  ran  off  and  staid  for  hours.  No,  indeed !  If 
you  had,  you  would  n't  'a'  worried  him  as  you  did 
when  he  come  home  to  tea  and  found  you  gone.  He 
fell  like  a  log,  just  as  he  got  up  from  the  table.  But 
he  had  n't  eaten  hardly  a  thing,  and  I  guess  you 
know  why  he  did  n't." 

Claire  uttered  a  quick,  flurried  cry.  She  grasped 
her  mother's  arm.  "You  —  you  don't  mean,"  she 
exclaimed,  in  a  piteously  fierce  way,  "  that  /  killed 
Father  —  or  —  or  hastened  his  death  by  —  by  not 
being  home  ?  Oh,  say,  Mother,  that  you  don't  mean 
this !  It  would  drive  me  mad  if  I  believed*  so ! 
Please  say  it  is  n't  true  !  " 

Claire's  aspect  breathed  such  desperation  that  it 
wrought  havoc  even  with  so  stolid  a  perversity  as 
that  of  the  harsh,  unpropitiable  being  whom  she  con 
fronted. 

"  Well,  no,  I  don't  say  that"  murmured  Mrs.  Twin 
ing,  with  sullen  alteration  of  mien  and  tone.  "  But 
I  do  say,  Claire,  that  you  was  off  somewhere,  and  he 
was  fretted  and  pestered  because  you  was,  and  "... 


118          m        AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Here  the  peculiar  nature  of  this  most  tormenting 
woman  suddenly  revealed  a  change.  Her  grim  mouth 
twitched ;  her  nostrils  produced  a  kind  of  catarrbal 
sniff;  her  cold  black  eyes  winked,  as  if  tears  were 
lurking  to  assail  them.  The  next  words  that  she 
spoke  were  in  a  high,  querulous  key. 

"  Oh  !  so  you  're  the  only  one  that 's  fit  to  mourn 
for  that  poor  dead  one,  hey?  I,  his  lawful  wedded 
wife,  and  your  own  mother,  ain't  got  any  right  to 
grieve  !  Oh,  very  well !  I  'm  nobody  at  all,  here.  I  'd 
better  get  away.  You  're  chief  mourner.  There  's 
nobody  but  you.  I  s'pose  you  '11  pay  all  the  expenses 
of  the  funeral,  since  you  're  so  dreadful  stuck-up 
about  it !  " 

Claire  shook  her  head,  in  a  pathetic,  conciliating 
way.  She  lifted  one  finger,  at  the  same  time.  Her 
face  was  still  white,  and  her  dark-blue  eyes  were 
burning  feverishly. 

"  No,  no,  Mother  !  "  she  said.  "  This  is  all  wrong. 
You  must  n't  speak  like  that,  here.  If  you  did  n't  love 
him,  I  did.  There  's  a  little  money  yet.  It 's  yours, 
but  you  '11  give  it;  you  've  told  me  of  it;  it  will  be 
enough  to  bury  Father  decently.  I  promise  you  that 
if  you  do  give  it  I  will  try  very  hard  to  get  some 
work  that  will  support  us  both.'' 

Mrs.  Twining  put  a  hand  on  either  hip.  She 
stared  at  Claire  for  a  moment.  Then  she  answered 
her. 

"  No,  "  she  said.  "  I  won't  give  a  cent  of  it.  It  'a 
only  about  a  hundred  dollars.  He  ain't  led  me  such 
a  nice  life  that  I  should  be  so  awful  grateful  to  him 
now  he  's  gone.  There  's  ways  of  burying  that  don  't 
cost  money.  Yes,  there 'a  ways.  .  .  .  Let'em  come 
and  take  him.  I  ain't  £o!ni*  to  beggar  myself  because 
he  wants  a  rosewood  colliu,  and"  — 


AN  AMBITIOVS  WOMAN.  119 

"  Mother !  "  cried  Claire,  pointing  toward  the  dead, 
"  he  is  here  !  " 

"  Oh,  well  I  "  said  Mrs.  Twining.  She  spoke  the 
two  brief  words  in  a  sort  of  abrupt  whimper,  taking 
a  step  or  two  toward  the  calm  sheeted  form  of  her 
dead  husband.  "  S'pose  he  is  here.  I  can't  use  that 
money,  and  I  won't !  " 

Claire  felt  the  hideous  taste  of  those  words.  They 
who  have  thus  far  read  this  chronicle  must  have  read 
it  ill  if  they  are  not  sure  that  no  love  for  a  mother 
so  ceaselessly  frowavd  and  hostile  could  now  survive 
in  her  daughter's  heart.  But  though  she  knew  her 
mother  capable  of  dread  acts  if  occasion  favored, 
Claire  was  thunderstruck  by  this  last  announcement. 

It  appeared  to  her  monstrous  and  barbarous,  as  it 
indeed  was.  She  clenched  both  hands,  for  an  instant, 
and  her  eyes  flashed. 

"  Say  what  you  mean ! "  she  retorted,  not  raising 
her  voice,  because  of  that  piteous  reverence  which  the 
still,  prone  shape  inspired.  "  Can  you  mean  that  you 
will  let  charity  bury  our  dead  for  us  ?  Can  you  mean 
that?" 

Mrs.  Twining  gave  a  quick,  grim  nod.  "  Yes,  I  do 
mean  it,"  she  returned.  "  And  if  you  was  n't  a  fool 
you  'd  see  why." 

Claire  folded  her  arms.  Her  next  words  came  with 
grave,  measured  composure  from  white,  set  lips.  "  I 
may  be  a  fool,"  she  said,  "  but  thank  God  I  have  n't 
your  kind  of  wisdom !  Keep  your  money,  Mother. 
Do  as  you  threaten.  But  when  Potter's  Field  takes 
poor  Father's  body,  that  will  be  the  end  of  every 
thing  between  you  and  me.  Remember  that  I  said 
this.  I  will  never  speak  to  you,  never  notice  you 
again,  if  you  do  so  shameful  a  thing.  If  you  spend 


120  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

that  money  as  duty  and  as  decency  should  both, 
prompt,  I  will  work  for  you,  slave  for  you,  cling  to 
you  always.  But  if  not,  we  are  no  longer  mother 
and  daughter.  You  see,  I  don't  speak  with  heat  or 
with  haste.  I  am  perfectly  calm.  Now  choose  which 
course  you  will  take.  But  never  say  that  I  did  not 
fully  warn  you,  when  it  will  be  too  late  for  retrac 
tion  !  " 

There  was  a  splendidly  quiet  improssiveness  in  this 
speech  of  Claire's.  She  went  and  knelt  once  more 
beside  her  father's  body  after  she  had  "finished  it. 
She  had  resolved  upon  no  further  entreaty  or  argu 
ment.  The  very  atrocity  of  her  mother's  proposed 
design  seemed  to  place  continued  discussion  of  it  be 
yond  the  pale  of  all  womanly  dignity. 

Mrs.  Twining  was  too  coarse  a  soul  to  see  the 
matter  as  Claire  saw  it.  She  preferred  to  take  the 
chances  that  her  daughter  would  relent  when  the 
ignoble  interment  was  over. 

To-morrow  came,  and  she  gave  no  sign  of  altering 
her  purpose.  Claire  scarcely  addressed  a  word  to 
her  during  this  day.  A  few  of  the  Greenpoint  folk 
called  at  the  house.  Among  these  was  Josie  Morley, 
distressed  at  the  tidings  of  death,  and  prepared  to 
utter  voluble  regrets  for  having  lost  Claire  in  the 
crowd  during  the  previous  night. 

But  Claire  would  see  no  one.  She  remained  with 
her  father's  body  in  the  little  room  upstairs,  locking 
its  door  when  she  thought  there  was  any  chance  of  a 
a  visitor  being  brought  thither. 

Now  and  then  she  wondered,  with  a  dumb  misery, 
whether  her  mother  had  made  any  attempt  to  bring 
about  the  loathed  burial.  She  herself  had  a  few  dol 
lars  in  her  possession.  This  sum  she  meant  to  use  in 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  121 

seeking  employment  after  the  earth  had  closed  over 
her  father's  corpse.  Once  or  twice  a  passionate  im 
pulse  had  seized  her  to  go  and  seek  help  from  those 
under  whom  her  father  had  lately  served  in  his 
drudging  clerkship.  But  she  repressed  this  feeling 
—  or  rather  shame  at  the  thought  of  possible  refusal, 
mixed  with  a  natural  proud  reluctance  to  own  the  sad 
need  in  which  she  stood,  repressed  it  for  her. 

The  next  day  she  learned  the  full,  torturing  truth. 
Mrs.  Twining  had  carried  out  her  threat.  Two 
shabby  men  came  with  a  pine  box.  They  placed  the 
corpse  herein.  Claire  had  already  paid  it  all  the  final 
reverential  rites  which  her  sex  and  her  grief  would 
allow.  It  was  dressed  in  the  same  rusty  outward 
garments  which  it  had  worn  when  death  came.  The 
men  held  a  little  discussion  below  stairs  with  Mrs. 
Twining.  They  afterward  departed  and  remained 
away  two  good  hours.  When  they  returned  they 
brought  a  dark  wagon  with  an  arched  top.  In  the 
interval  Claire  still  watched.  She  was  quite  silent. 
Perhaps  if  she  had  deigned  now  to  plead  with  her 
mother,  the  latter,  already  a  little  frightened  at  the 
girl's  stony,  unvaried  calmness,  might  have  relented 
and  agreed  to  more  seemly  obsequies.  But  except 
one  glance  of  immeasurable  reproach,  during  a  brief 
visit  which  Mrs.  Twining  paid  to  the  chamber,  Claire 
gave  no  further  sign  of  revolt. 

When  the  men  returned,  she  chanced  to  be  looking 
from  the  window.  She  saw  the  wagon.  She  shud 
dered,  and  went  back  to  her  father.  No  one  saw  her 
bid  him  the  last  farewells.  She  showed  no  trace  of 
tears  when  the  men  presently  reentered  the  room, 
but  her  dark-blue  eyes  shone  from  her  hueless  face 
with  a  dry,  glassy  glitter.  Her  mother  now  appeared. 


122  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

She  looked  at  Claire  in  a  covert,  uneasy  way,  though 
there  was  much  dogged  obstinacy  about  the  lines  of 
her  mouth.  A  moment  later  she  spoke  to  the  men. 
It  seemed  to  Claire  like  the  refinement  of  hypocrisy 
that  she  should  set  her  voice  in  a  mournful  key. 

"  I  s'pose  you  want  to  get  it  through  right  away," 
she  said. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  replied  one  of  the  men.  "  Those 
is  always  the  orders." 

Claire  went  to  the  window  again.  It  was  a  raw, 
misty,  drizzling  day.  She  stared  out  into  the  dreary 
street.  She  did  not  want  to  see  that  pitiful  box 
closed  and  sealed.  She  presently  heard  a  grating 
sound  which  told  her  just  what  the  men  were  doing. 

And  then  she  heard  another  sound  that  was  quite 
as  harsh.  It  was  her  mother's  voice,  lowered,  and 
with  a  sort  of  whine  in  it. 

"  It 's  true  enough  that  the  dead  ought  to  be  buried 
properly,  Claire,  but  that  ain't  any  reason  why  the 
living  should  n't  live  —  the  best  way  they  can.  You 
take  it  hard  now,  but  after  a  while  you  '11  see  you 
ain't  got  any  real  right  to  blame  me.  You  '11  see  "  — 

"  Don't  touch  me,  please,"  interrupted  Claire. 
Her  mother  had  laid  a  hand  on  her  arm,  and  she  had 
receded  instantly.  Then  she  said,  while  steadying 
her  voice,  though  not  caring  whether  the  men  heard 
or  no:  "Did  you  intend  going  to  —  to  the  grave  with 
him  ?  " 

Mrs.  Twining  gave  a  great  elegiac  sigh.  "Oh,  no, 
I  could  n't  stand  it.  I  should  break  right  down  long 
before  I  got  there." 

"Very  well,"  said  Claire,  "  I  am  going." 

One  of  the  men  looked  up  at  her.  He  had  a  small, 
round  face,  an  odd  blond  tuft  of  beard,  and  a  pair  of 


AN  AMBITIC'JS    WOMAN.  123 

mild  blue  eyes.  He  held  Ins  screw-driver  thrust  into 
a  screw  while  he  spoke.  His  voice  was  very  respect 
ful.  He  had  noticed  Claire's  look  and  mien  before ; 
he  had  a  wife  and  children  at  home.  Scarcely  ever, 
in  his  experience,  had  he  known  a  burial  of  this  sort 
to  take  place  from  a  dwelling  as  apparently  thrifty 
as  the  present  one. 

"  Excuse  me,  Miss,"  the  man  said,  "  but  you 
could  n't  ride  in  'the  wagon.  There  's  just  room  for 
him  and  me."  He  indicated  his  companion  by  a  lit 
tle  motion  of  the  head.  "And  there's  three  other 
bodies.  We  're  takin'  'em  to  the  almshouse." 

"  Where  is  the  almshouse  ?  "  asked  Claire.  She 
could  not  help  giving  her  mother  one  shocked  side 
long  glance  while  this  question  left  her  lips. 

"  It 's  over  in  Flatbush,"  the  man  said. 

Claire  went  close  up  to  his  side.  If  he  had  not 
seen  the  white  distress  in  her  face  before,  he  must 
plainly  have  seen  it  now.  "  I  know  where  that  is," 
she  said.  "  I  could  go  there.  The  cars  would  take 
me."  She  put  her  hand  on  the  rough  wood  of  the 
box.  The  touch  was  so  light  that  it  resembled  a  ca 
ress.  "  Would  they  let  me  go  to  — •  to  the  almshouse 
and  wait  .  .  .  near  him  .  .  .  till  he  is  buried?" 

Mrs.  Twining  at  once  began  to  weep.  Or  rather, 
she  spoke  in  a  wailing  tone  that  indicated  tears,  even 
if  no  tears  really  either  gathered  or  fell. 

"  Claire,  you  must  n't  think  of  going !  No,  you 
must  n't !  Things  are  bad  enough,  as  it  is.  Now, 
promise  me  that  you  won't  take  any  such  notion  ! 
Do  promise  ! " 

Claire  paid  no  heed  to  this  outburst.  She  was 
looking  with  eager  fixity  at  the  man.  She  had  al 
ready  roused  his  sympathy]  she  felt  certain  of  it; 


124  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

his  big,  mild  e}re  seemed  to  tell  her  so.  "  They 
won't  all  be  buried  till  about  two  o'clock,"  he  said. 
"  There  '11  be  five  or  six  bodies  to-day,  I  guess.  If 
you  start  from  here  in  about  an  hour,  Miss,  you  can 
get  to  the  bury  in '-ground  by  just  the  right  time.  I  '11 
see  to  it  you  do."  The  speaker  here  turned  and 
winked  one  mild  eye  at  his  companion.  The  latter 
was  staring  rather  lifelessly  at  Claire.  He  had  a 
long,  pale,  tired-looking  face. 

"All  right,"  he  mutteVed,  apathetically,  as  if  he 
had  not  at  all  comprehended,  but  was  willing  to  take 
matters  on  trust. 

"  I  '11  see  to  it  that  he  ain't  got  in  till  you  come," 
pursued  Claire's  new  friend.  "  The  Potter's  Field 
ain't  far  from  the  County  Buildings,  as  they  call 
'em.  I  s'pose  you  know  how  to  get  to  Flatbush  ?  " 
He  scratched  his  sandy  shock  of  hair  for  an  instant, 
and  told  her  just  what  cars  to  take. 

Claire  put  faith  in  him.  Something  made  her  do 
so.  When  the  pine  box  had  been  carried  down  stairs, 
placed  inside  the  dark  wagon,  and  driven  away,  she 
went  to  her  own  room  and  made  a  small,  neat  brown- 
paper  parcel.  Her  clothes  were  few  enough,  and  she 
left  all  of  these  except  what  seemed  to  her  of  vital 
necessity.  "  I  don't  want  to  look  like  a  tramp,"  she 
told  herself,  with  a  darksome  pleasantry.  "  I  shall 
not,  either.  I  shall  only  be  a  poor,  shabby  girl  with 
a  bundle." 

When  she  emerged  from  her  room  her  mother  met 
her  in  the  hall.  Claire  wore  her  bonnet.  Mrs.  Twin 
ing  gave  a  frightened  whimper  as  she  saw  this  and 
the  parcel. 

"  Oh,  Claire,"  she  said,  "you  ain't  really  going  to 
the  —  the  grave  ?  " 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  125 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  she  said.  Her  tones  were  so  frigid 
and  so  melancholy  that  they  caused  a  palpable  start 
in  her  who  heard  them. 

"  Oh,  Claire,"  moaned  her  mother,  "  if  you  go,  / 
can't !  I  can't  see  him  buried  that  way  !  Of  course 
you  can,  if  you  want !  " 

"  I  do  want,"  said  Claire. 

"  But  you  '11  come  back !  you  '11  come  home  again !  " 

As  she  was  passing  Uer  mother,  there  in  the  hall, 
Claire  turned  and  faced  her.  "  I  shall  never  come 
home  again,"  she  said,  scarcely  raising  her  voice 
above  a  whisper.  "  You  remember  what  I  told  you." 

Mrs.  Twining  was  no  longer  merely  frightened; 
she  was  terrified.  "Claire!"  she  burst  forth,  "I 
ain't  done  right,  perhaps.  But  don't  be  headstrong 
—  now,  don't !  if  you  'd  spoke  to  me  yesterday  —  if 
you  'd  even  spoke  to  me  this  morning,  I  might,  .  .  . 
well,  I  might,  after  all,  have  given  the  money.  But 
it 's  too  late  now,  and  "... 

"  Yes,  it  is  too  late  now,"  Claire  interrupted,  and 
somehow  with  the  effect  of  a  shaft,  shot  noiselessly, 
.  and  tellingly  aimed. 

After  that  she  hurried  straight  down  stairs,  passed 
along  the  lower  hall,  and  made  rapid  exit  from  the 
house. 

A  number  of  heads  had  been  thrust  from  neigh 
boring  windows  while  the  body  was  being  borne 
away.  Claire,  who  endured  what  was  thus  far  the 
supreme  humiliation  of  her  life,  wondered  whether 
any  one  was  watching  now,  but  she  kept  her  eyes 
drooped  toward  the  pavement  as  she  moved  along, 
and  never  once  looked  to  left  or  right.  She  despised 
these  possible  watchers,  and  yet  she  remembered 
what  her  dead  had  been  —  how  kindly,  how  pure, 


126  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

how  noble ;  and  it  was  to  her  sense  an  infamy  that 
his  ignominious  burial  should  be  made  a  theme  of 
vulgar  gossip. 

"  He  is  to  be  put  in  Potter's  Field,"  she  told  her 
own  aching,  bursting  heart,  while  she  still  hurried 
along.  "  Yes,  he  !  And  he  was  so  good,  so  fine,  so 
much  a  gentleman  !  He  is  to  be  put  in  Potter's 
Field !  .  .  .  But  I  will  see  the  last  sod  placed  over 
him.  .  .  .  That  man  will  keep  his  word.  ...  I  shall 
stand  by  poor  Father,  his  only  mourner.  He  will  be 
glad  if  he  knows.  What  a  slight  thing  it  is  to  do  for 
him,  after  all  the  love  he  gave  me !  But  it  is  all  I 
can  do.  All,  and  yet  so  little !  " 

A  dreary  ride  in  the  cars  at  last  brought  her  to 
Flatbush.  After  alighting  she  had  quite  a  long  walk 
through  the  gray,  foggy  atmosphere  of  a  region 
which  the  sweetest  mood  of  spring  or  summer  finds 
no  spell  to  beautify.  It  was  now  as  hideous  and 
lonesome  as  that  hateful  tract  just  beyond  Green- 
point.  The  immense  gloomy  structures  of  the  alms- 
houses  loomed  beside  the  path  she  took.  The  con 
ductor  on  the  car  had  told  her  just  how  to  reach  the 
pauper  graveyard.  It  lay  at  some  distance  from  the 
grim  buildings  that  she  was  obliged  to  pass,  and 
within  whose  walls  were  prisoned  the  sin,  the  sick 
ness  and  the  madness  of  a  great  city. 

Nothing  could  be  more  common,  more  neglectful, 
more  wretchedly  melancholy,  than  the  place  she  at 
length  gained.  It  was  scarcely  an  acre  in  extent ; 
it  did  not  contain  a  single  tree  or  shrub ;  it  was  en 
closed  by  a  fence  of  coarse,  careless  boarding.  Its 
graves  were  so  thick  that  you  could  scarcely  pass 
between  them.  In  each  grave  had  been  laid  four 
bodies,  and  excepting  a  pathetic  half-dozen  or  so  of 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  127 

simple  wooden  crosses,  there  were  no  signs  to  tell 
who  slept  here,  except  rough,  low  stakes,  each  bear 
ing  four  numbers.  Never  was  the  oblivion  of  death 
more  sternly  typified ;  never  was  its  dark  mockery 
more  dolefully  accentuated ! 

A  little  group  of  men  stood  near  an  open  grave  as 
Claire  reached  the  gate.  She  saw  them,  and  recog 
nized  one  of  them,  who  advanced  toward  her.  She 
felt  herself  grow  slightly  faint  as  she  perceived  a  box 
placed  just  at  the  rim  of  the  earthy  cavity. 

"  Was  I  in  time  ?  "  she  asked  of  the  man,  as  they 
walked  together  inside  the  enclosure. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  with  a  very  kind  voice.  "  You 
was  just  in  time,  Miss.  All  the  others  is  turned  in 
except  him.  I  saved  him  on  purpose."  .. 


VIII. 

THIS  same  afternoon,  about  two  hours  later,  Claire 
was  in  New  York.  She  had  crossed  thither,  spurred 
by  an  idea  born  of  her  desperation.  It  was  a  forlorn 
hope  ;  it  was  like  the  straw  clutched  by  the  sinking 
hand ;  and  yet  it  formed  a  comforting  preventive 
against  complete  despair.  She  had  remembered  her 
old  friend  at  Mrs.  Arcularius's  school,  the  plump- 
cheeked  and  yellow-haired  Sophia  Bergemann.  She 
had  determined  to  seek  her  out  and  ask  her  aid  in 
obtaining  work.  Years  had  elapsed  since  Claire  and 
Sophia  had  met ;  but  if  the  buxom  young  creature 
had  preserved  even  half  of  her  old  amiable  friend 
ship,  there  was  excellent  chance  of  cordial  welcome 
and  kindly  assistance. 

'  I  only  hope  that  she  still  lives  in  Hoboken,' 
Claire  thought,  while  taking  the  journey  across  town. 
'Suppose  the  family  have  left  there.  Suppose  I  can 
not  find  Sophia.  Suppose  that  she  is  married  and 
has  gone  to  live  elsewhere  —  in  Europe,  perhaps. 
Suppose  that  she  is  dead.' 

More  than  once,  before  she  had  reached  the  cen 
tral  part  of  the  city,  Claire  felt  herself  grow  weak 
with  dread.  Night  would  soon  approach.  She  had 
money  enough  to  get  lodgment,  but  in  her  ignorance 
and  her  loneliness  how  could  she  secure  it?  Her 
mother's  face,  clothed  with  the  old  mocking  smite 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  129 

repeatedly  rose  before  her  fancy.  She  seemed  to 
see  the  hard,  bitter  mouth  frame  certain  sentences. 
"  Oh,  you  '11  come  back,"  it  seemed  to  say.  "  You  've 
got  to.  You  can't  go  gallivanting  round  New  York 
after  dark.  I  ain't  afraid.  Oh,  you  '11  come  back  to 
Greenpoint,  sure  !  " 

'  I  will  never  go  back,'  Claire  said  to  her  own 
thoughts,  answering  this  phantasmal  sort  of  taunt. 
'  No,  not  if  I  walk  the  streets  to-night  and  many 
another  night.  Not  if  I  have  to  beg  for  food.  Not 
if  I  die  of  hunger.  I  will  never  go  back  there  !  No, 
no,  no ! ' 

There  was  nothing  theatrically  fervid  about  this 
silent  resolve.  The  girl  was  quite  capable  of  con 
fronting  any  sharp  ill  rather  than  remeet  the  woman 
who  had  so  pitilessly  outraged  her  most  sacred  in 
stincts.  She  knew  well  enough  that  her  mother  con 
fidently  counted  upon  her  return.  She  knew  well 
enough  that  her  mother  would  undergo  wild  alarm 
on  finding  herself  permanently  deserted.  Yet  Claire, 
with  a  grim  desire  of  inflicting  punishment  for  the 
insult  flung  at  her  beloved  dead,  silently  exulted  in 
what  she  could  not  help  but  deem  a  just  and  rightful 
vengeance.  True,  her  own  act  may  have  dealt  the 
vengeance  ;  but  did  it  not  really  spring  from  that 
departed  soul  whose  corpse  had  met  the  lash  of  so 
undeserved  an  indignity  ?  When  Claire  had  reached 
the  centre  of  the  city  she  suddenly  determined  to 
seek  Mrs.  Arcularius's  establishment.  The  school 
might  either  have  changed  its  locality  or  else  ceased 
to  exist.  Still,  she  would  apply  at  the  old  quartei'S. 
There  she  would  inquire  for  Sophia  Bergemann. 
They  might  know  nothing  concerning  the  giii.  But 
if  this  resulted,  she  would  still  have  all  Hoboken  left, 
9 


130  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

in  which  the  dwelling-place  of  so  prominent  a  resi 
dent  —  even  though  one  of  past  time  —  would  most 
probably  be  known  on  inquiry.  A  throng  of  mem 
ories  beset  her  as  she  rang  the  bell  of  Mrs.  Arcu- 
larius's  abode.  The  name  of  that  august  lady 
gleamed  on  a  large  silver-plated  square,  affixed  to 
the  second  door,  beyond  the  marble-paved  vestibule. 
A  smartly  -  dressed  maid  answered  her  summons. 
Claire  stated  in  brief,  civil  terms  what  information 
she  desired  to  gain.  The  maid  left  her  standing  in 
the  well-known  hall  for  several  minutes,  and  at  length 
returned  with  the  tidings,  apparently  fresh  from  the 
lips  of  Mrs.  Arcularius  herself,  that  Miss  Bergemann 
was  then  living  at  No.  —  Fifth  Avenue,  only  a  slight 
distance  away. 

Claire  felt  a  thrill  of  relief  as  she  thanked  the  maid 
and  resought  the  street.  This  intelligence  seemed  a 
most  happy  stroke  of  luck.  It  augured  well  for  the 
success  of  her  sad  little  enterprise. 

The  Fifth  Avenue  dwelling  proved  to  be  a  man 
sion  of  imposing  dismensions.  It  stood  on  a  corner, 
and  had  a  wide  window  at  one  side  of  its  spacious 
entrance,  and  two  at  the  other.  From  either  panel 
of  its  polished  walnut  door  jutted  a  griffon's  head 
of  bronze,  holding  a  ring  pendant  from  its  tense 
lips.  Beyond  the  glossy  plate-glass  of  the  casements 
gleamed  misty  folds  of  lace,  and  still  further  beyond 
these  you  caught  a  charming  glimpse  of  large-leaved 
tropic  plants  in  rich-hued  vases.  Claire  pulled  a 
bronze  bell-handle  that  was  wrought  in  the  likeness 
of  some  close-folded  flower.  A  dull  yet  distinct  peal 
ensued,  having  in  its  sound  a  trim  directness  that 
suggested  prompt  and  capable  attendance  from  in 
terior  quarters.  While  Claire  waited  for  admission, 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  131 

she  cast  her  look  downward  upon  the  middle  street, 
and  across  at  the  line  of  opposite  residences,  all 
marked  by  a  calm  uniformity  of  elegance.  The 
sight  was  very  new  to  her  after  Greenpoint,  but  at 
the  same  time  it  stirred  certain  sources  of  youthful 
recollection.  Many  carriages  were  passing.  One  or 
two  were  shaped  with  fashionable  oddity,  having 
only  a  single  pair  of  huge  wheels  and  a  booted  and 
cockaded  flunkey,  who  sat  in  cramped,  oblique  pos 
ture,  with  his  back  to  the  other  occupants,  a  lady 
and  a  gentleman,  and  who  seemed  forever  taking  a 
resigned  plunge  off  the  vehicle,  with  stoically  folded 
arms.  Another  was  a  heavy,  sombre  family  coach, 
with  two  men  oil  the  box,  both  clad  in  dark,  digni 
fied  livery.  Still  another  was  the  so-called  dog-cart, 
borne  along  by  a  team  of  responsible  silver-trapped 
bays,  and  having  on  its  second  seat  a  footman  gra 
ciously  permitted,  in  this  instance,  to  face  the  horses 
whose  lustrous  flanks  his  own  hands  had  doubtless 
groomed  into  their  present  brilliance.  The  two  par 
allel  yet  contrary  streams  of  vehicles  made  an  inces- 
sant'subdued  clatter;  numerous  pedestrians  were  also 
passing  to  and  fro  along  either  sidewalk ;  the  weather 
had  changed  again  from  harsh  to  clement;  the  strip 
of  clear,  blue  sky  above  the  massive  housetops  wore 
a  shining  delicacy  and  airiness  of  tint;  even  Claire's 
new  wound,  that  still  bled  unseen,  could  not  distract 
her  from  a  buoyant  congeniality  with  the  prosperous 
and  festal  tumult  so  amply  manifest.  She  under 
stood  then,  and  perhaps  with  a  qualm  of  shame  as 
well,  that  no  grief  could  quite  repress,  however  tran 
siently,  her  love  for  life,  action,  and  refined  social  in- 
tei'course.  The  old  desire  to  win  a  noted  place  among 
those  of  her  own  kind  who  were  themselves  notable, 


132  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

quickened  within  her,  too,  as  she  gazed  upon  the 
bright  bustle  and  the  palatial  importance  which  were 
both  so  near  at  hand. 

'  Near,'  she  mused,  '  and  yet  so  far  !  Shall  I  ever 
do  what  he  bade  me  to  do  on  that  nia'ht  Ion""  a<TO  ? 

o  o       o 

Shall  I  ever  climb  the  hill?  Shall  I  not  grow  tired 
and  sit  down  to  rest?  What  chance  have  I  now  of 
ever  reaching  the  top?  Where  is  the  hand  to  help 
me  even  ever  so  little  ?  Will  Sophia  Bergemann  do 
it  ?  Yes  ;  if  the  ways  of  the  world  have  n't  changed 
her  since  we  met  at  school.' 

A  man-servant,  in  what  is  termed  full-dress,  soon 
opened  the  door,  and  Claire  asked  if  Miss  Sophia 
Bergemann  was  at  home.  The  man  appeared  to  be 
a  very  majestic  person.  Claire  felt  a  good  deal  of 
secret  awe  in  his  presence.  He  had  a  superb  de 
velopment  of  the  chest,  a  sort  of  senatorial  nose,  and 
two  oblong  tufts  of  sorrel  whisker,  growing  with  a 
mossv  density  close  to  either  ear. 

But  he  was  very  civil,  notwithstanding  his  grand 
eur.  Pie  told  Claire,  in  a  rich  voice  that  would  have 
deepened  her  veneration  if  it  had  not  been  blent  with 
a  valiant  North-of-Ireland  brogue,  that  Miss  Berge 
mann  was  at  home  but  about  to  leave  the  house  for 
a  drive. 

The  hall  in  which  this  announcement  was  made 
glowed  with  sumptuous  yet  tasteful  decorations.  A 
dark  curve  of  heavy -balustered  staircase,  which  four 
or  five  persons  might  have  ascended  abreast,  met  the 
eye  only  a  short  space  away.  From  the  lofty  ceiling 
depended  a  costly  lamp  of  illumined  glass.  Soft, 
thick  tapestries  of  Turkish  design  drooped  from  sev 
eral  near  doorways.  A  fleet  remembrance  of  the  old 
school-room  sarcasms  about  the  Berg<jmanns'  vul 
gar  Hoboken  home  flashed  through  Claire's  mind. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  133 

"  Will  you  tell  Miss  Sophia,  please,"  she  said,  in 
as  firm  and  calm  a  tone  as  she  could  manage,  "that 
Miss  Twining,  whom  she  knew  some  years  ago, 
would  like  to  speak  with  her?" 

The  butler  was  about  to  reply,  when  a  loud  femi 
nine  voice  suddenly  pealed  from  upper  regions.  In 
reality  it  was  the  voice  of  a  lady  who  had  already 
descended  several  steps  of  the  broad,  winding  stair 
case  ;  but  the  lady  was  still  in  obscurity,  and  there 
fore  the  liberal  size  of  the  house  caused  her  tones  to 
sound  as  if  they  had  come  from  a  still  greater  dis 
tance.  "  Michael,"  shrilled  the  voice,  "  I  see  the  car 
riage  is  n't  here  yet.  It 's  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
behind  time.  Thomas  has  done  this  twice  before  in 
one  week.  Now,  you  just  send  Robert  straight 
round  to  the  stable,  and  let  him  say  that  we  're  very 
angry  about  it,  and  that  Ma  won't  put  up  with  such 
behavior  if  it  ever  happens  again  !  " 

The  butler  had  left  Claire  before  the  end  of  the 
final  belligerent  sentence,  and  had  moved,  with  a 
certain  military  briskness,  toward  the  first  wide  step 
of  the  staircase. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Sophia,"  he  said,  employing  his  fine 
sonorous  voice  so  that  it  somehow  had  the  effect  of 
not  being  unduly  raised,  though  still  strongly  audible. 
The  next  moment  he  turned  toward  Claire,  with  a 
mien  in  which  his  natural  official  gravity  gave  sign 
of  being  cruelly  fluttered. 

"  Miss  Sophia  is  coming  downstairs,  Miss,"  he  said. 

Claire  had  a  swift  feeling  of  gratitude  for  that 
single  word  "  Miss."  She  knew  that  she  was  dingily 
clothed  ;  she  had  fancied  that  all  her  claims  to  the 
nicer  grades  of  gentility  lived  solely  within  her  men 
tal  wish  and  hope ;  but  she  failed  to  perceive  that 


134  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

her  face  was  filled  with  those  tender  and  sweet 
charms  which  we  term  patrician,  and  that  her  least 
gesture  carried  with  it  a  grace  which  previous  con 
ditions  of  culture  alone  have  the  art  to  bestow.  It 
was  indeed  true,  as  Michael  had  said,  that  Miss 
Sophia  was  coming  downstairs.  Claire  soon  hoard  a 
decisive  rustle  of  robes,  and  presently  a  desceudent 
shape  dawned  upon  her  view,  arrayed  in  very  modish 
costume. 

But  the  instant  that  Claire  caught  sight  of  Sophia 
she  recognized  the  plump,  rubicund  face,  grown  only 
a  trifle  more  womanly  beneath  its  low-arranged  floss 
of  yellow  hair.  She  went  forward  to  meet  her  old 
friend.  Just  as  Sophia  left  the  last  step  of  the  stair 
case,  Claire  had  so  managed  that  they  stood  very 
near  to  each  other. 

She  did  not  put  forth  a  hand.  Her  pale,  beautiful 
face  had  grown  paler,  through  fear  of  some  possibly 
haughty  reception.  But  she  spoke  the  moment  that 
Sophia's  round  blue  eyes  had  fairly  met  her  own. 

"  I  hope  you  know  me,"  she  said.  "  I  hope  you 
have  not  forgotten  me." 

A  blank,  dismayed  look  possessed  Sophia  for  a  few 
seconds,  and  then  she  put  forth  two  hands  which 
were  sheathed  half-way  up  to  the  elbow  in  dull-brown 
gloves,  seizing  both  of  Claire's  hands  the  next  instant. 

"  Forgotten  you  !  "  she  cried.  "  Why,  you  're 
Claire  Twining  !  Of  course  you  are  !  And  as  pretty 
as  a  picture,  just  as  you  always  were !  Why,  you 
dear  old  thing  !  Give  me  a  kiss  !  " 

Claire  felt  the  lips  of  the  speaker  forcibly  touch 
each  of  her  cheeks.  Sophia  still  held  her  hands. 
The  welcome  had  been  too  abruptly  cordial.  A  mist 
slipped  before  her  sight  and  clouded  her  brain.  She 
staggered  backward,.  .  .  , 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  135 

Perhaps  she  would  have  fallen,  if  the  magnificent 
Michael  had  not  been  near  enough  to  place  a  mus 
cular  arm  between  herself  and  the  floor.  But  she 
rallied  almost  at  once.  And  while  clearness  was  re 
turning  to  her  mind,  she  heard  Sophia  say,  in  im 
perious  yet  hearty  tones,  — 

"  Michael,  take  her  into  the  reception-room  !  Now, 
don't  look  so  stupid  !  Do  as  I  say  !  " 

Claire's  attack,  though  more  than  partly  past,  still 
left  her  weak.  She  allowed  herself  to  be  led,  and 
indeed  half  supported,  by  Michael.  A  little  later 
she  was  seated  on  a  big,  yielding  lounge,  with  the 
sense  of  a  big,  yielding  pillow  at  her  back.  And 
presently,  close  beside  her,  she  saw  the  ruddy,  broad- 
blown  face  of  Sophia,  surmounted  by  a  Parisian  bon 
net  of  the  most  deft  and  dainty  millinery. 

"  Sophia,"  she  said,  breaking  into  a  tremulous,  pa 
thetic  little  laugh,  "please  don't  —  please  don't  think 
I  've  lost  my  senses  !  But  it  —  it  was  so  good  of  you 
to  —  remember* me,  after  we  hadn't  met  for  such  a 
long  time,  that  —  that  I "  — 

Here  Claire  burst  into  an  actual  tempest  of  tears 
and  sobs,  and  immediately  afterward  felt  Sophia's 
hands  again  clasp  both  her  own. 

"  Michael !  "  cried  her  new  hostess  at  the  same  mo 
ment,  in  tones  of  imperative  command,  "for  Heaven's 
sake,  don't  stand  staring  there,  but  do  leave  the 
room  I " 

"  Yes,  Miss,"  came  the  nicely  decorous  reply. 
Faultless  servant  as  he  was,  it  must  still  be  set  to 
the  credit  of  Michael  that  he  closed  a  sliding  door  of 
solid  rosewood,  which  worked  on  easy  grooves  be 
tween  the  double  portiere  of  the  apartment,  just  after 
threshold.  His  act  was  wholly  unneces- 


136  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

saiy,  considering  the  nature  of  the  command  his 
young  mistress  had  given ;  and  when  we  note  the 
obstructing  force  of  the  door  itself,  it  implies  a  sub 
lime  abstinence  from  the  fascinations  of  eavesdrop 
ping. 

"  Now,  don't  cry  so  !  "  exclaimed  Sophia,  with  great 
sympathy  and  a  strong  suspicion  of  active  emotion  as 
well.  "  I  suppose  something  dreadful  has  happened 
to  you,  dear  old  Claire.  What  is  it  ?  Just  tell  me, 
and  I  '11  see  what  I  can  do.  You  're  not  dressed  as  if 
you  were  very  well  off.  Is  it  poverty  ?  Oh,  pshaw  ! 
I  '11  soon  fix  things  all  right  if  you  want  help  that 
way.  I'll"  — 

Here  Sophia  abruptly  paused,  and  withdrew  her 
hands.  She  stood  facing  Claire,  who  still  struggled 
to  master  the  sobs  that  shook  her.  Sophia  seemed 
sternly  troubled :  her  full  cheeks  had  reddened ;  this 
was  her  one  invariable  way  of  showing  agitation ; 
she  never  turned  pale,  like  other  people.  "  Claire !  " 
she  broke  forth,  in  solemn  undertone.  "  I  do  hope  it 
is  n't  one  thing !  I  do  hope  you  have  n't  been  .  .  . 
been  going  ivrong !  You  know  what  I  mean.  I 
would  n't  mind  anything  but  that,  and  that  I  could 
n't  forgive  —  or  even  excuse  !  " 

Claire  sprang  to  her  feet  as  the  last  word  passed 
Sophia's  lips.  Wrath  had  calmed  her,  and  with  a 
wondrous  speed.  The  tears  were  still  glittering  on 
her  cheeks,  however,  as  she  spoke,  with  eyes  that 
flashed  and  a  lip  that  curled. 

"  Sophia  !  "  she  said ;  "  how  dare  you  insult  me  like 
this ! " 

The  distressed  frown  on  Sophia's  face  instantly 
vanished.  "  Oh,  Claire,"  she  cried,  "  I  'm  so  glad  it 
is  n't  true !  Don't  be  angry.  You  see,  my  dear,  we 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  137 

hadn't  met  for  so  long,  and  you  looked  as  if — as  if 
something  horrible  had  happened,  and  it 's  such  a 
funny,  topsy-turvy  world.  So  many  queer  things  do 
happen  in  it.  Don't  be  angry,  please !  " 

"•I  am  angry,''  said  Claire.  In  her  shabby  dress 
she  gave,  notwithstanding,  a  noble  portrayal  of  dis 
dain.  She  had  taken  several  steps  toward  the  door, 
though  Sophia,  having  caught  her  arm,  endeavored, 
with  a  mien  contrite  and  even  supplicating,  to  detain 
her  within  the  chamber.  '•'  Why  should  I  not  be 
angry  ?  "  Claire  went  on,  her  voice  dry  and  bitter. 
"  Allow  that  I  do  look  as  if  I  were  miserable.  Is 
misery  another  name  for  sin?  .  .  .  No,  Sophia,  let 
me  go,  please.  .  .  .  Perhaps  you  may  learn,  some 
day,  as  I  've  learned  already,  that  the  unhappy  peo 
ple  in  life  are  not  always  the  bad  ones !  " 

But  Sophia,  whose  impulsive  and  explosive  nature 
had  not  altered  very  markedly  since  we  last  heard  of 
her  childish  escapades,  now  replied  by  a  most  excited 
outburst  of  appeal.  Her  exuberant  figure,  which  no 
dexterity  of  dressmaking  and  no  splendor  of  com 
bined  satins  and  velvets  could  turn  less  unwieldy 
and  cumbrous,  bowed  and  swayed  till  you  almost 
heard  the  seams  of  its  rich  garb  crack  their  stitches 
under  the  fleshly  disturbance  to  which  she  subjected 
them. 

"Claire!  Claire!"  she  ejaculated;  "I  have  insulted 
you.  .  .  .  But  you'll  forgive  me  —  I  know  you  will. 
I  've  never  forgotten  you.  You  stood  up  against 
that  horrid  Ada  Gerrard  and  her  set  so  finely,  years 
ago !  You  were  good  then  —  yes,  just  as  good  as  gold, 
—  and  I  'm  sure  you  're  just  exactly  as  good  still. 
Now,  Claire,  don't  look  that  way !  I  was  talking  to 
Ma  about  you  only  a  few  days  since.  Pa  's  dead, 


138  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

you  know  —  but  I  suppose  you  don't.  Yes,  I  said  to 
M;i  that  I  'd  give  anything  to  find  out  what  had  be 
come  of  you.  Ma  and  I  are  dreadfully  rich  —  I 
mean  well  off.  Poor  Pa  left  ever  so  much  money. 
He 's  been  dead  nearly  three  years.  There  's  nobody 
but  Ma  and  I  left.  I  hate  Hoboken.  I  made  her 
buy  this  house.  Now,  Claire,  just  stop  !  You  shan't 
go.  You  're  going  to  tell  me  all  about  your  troubles. 
Yes,  you  shall !  I  '11  be  your  friend.  There,  let  me 
kiss  you.  .  .  .  Do,  Claire !  .  .  .  You  know  I  was  al 
ways  awfully  fond  of  you.  I  never  knew  any  girl  I 
was  half  so  fond  of  as  you.  I  've  asked  your  pardon. 
You  were  always  a  lady.  I  remember  about  that 
dreadful  dress  you  came  to  school  in,  first.  But  that 
did  n't  matter.  You  were  a  lady  born,  and  you 
showed  it  afterward.  Every  girl  thought  so,  too. 
Even  those  hateful  snobs  had  to  own  it  —  I  'm  sure 
they  did.  I  see  some  of  them  quite  often.  Ada 
Gerrard  's  a  great  swell,  as  they  say,  now.  She  gives 
me  a  little  nod  when  I  meet  her,  driving  in  the 
Park  or  on  the  Avenue.  But  you  're  twice  the  lady 
she  is.  Yes,  Claire,  I  mean  it.  Kiss  me,  now,  won't 
you  ?  Kiss  me,  and  be  friends !  " 

Claire  had  succumbed  several  minutes  before  this 
eager  tirade  was  ended.  Her  anger  had  fled.  She 
let  Sophia  put  both  arms  about  her.  She  returned 
Sophia's  kiss.  Then  she  leaned  her  head  upon  the 
shoulder  of  her  companion,  and  gave  way  to  another 
access  of  tears.  But  they  were  quiet  tears,  this  time. 
The  hysteric  impulse  had  wholly  passed.  A  little 
later  she  told  Sophia,  with  as  much  placid  directness 
as  she  could  manage,  every  important  detail  of  the 
hard,  dreary  life  lived  since  they  two  had  last  met. 

While  she  thus  spoke,  the  extraordinary  charm  of 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  139 

lier  manner  and  the  distinct  loveliness  of  her  delicate 
yet  notable  beauty  more  than  once  thrilled  her  lis 
tener.  Sophia's  old  worship,  if  the  term  be  not  too 
strong,  returned  in  full  force.  She  had  sworn  by 
Claire,  as  the  phrase  goes,  in  earlier  days.  She  was 
prepared  to  swear  by  her  still.  The  story  of  Mr. 
Twining's  death  and  the  disloyal  deportment  of  his 
wife  roused  her  vehement  contempt.  By  the  time 
that  Claire  had  finished  her  gloomy  recital,  the  two 
girls  were  seated  close  together.  Sophia's  large  fat 
hand,  in  its  fashionable  glove,  was  fervidly  clasping 
Claire's. 

"  You  did  perfectly  right ! "  Sophia  at  length  ex 
claimed,  after  the  pause  had  come,  and  while  her 
visitor  sat  with  drooped  head  ajid  pale,  compressed 
lips.  "  Your  poor  father  !  To  bury  him  that  way  ! 
It  was  frightful!  And  you  told  her  you'd  do  any- 
thing  on  earth  for  her  if  she  only  would  n't !  And 
I  know  how  you  loved  your  father.  Don't  you  rec 
ollect  telling  me  about  him,  one  recess,  when  I  gave 
you  half  my  sardine-sandwich  ?  You  said  he  was  a 
gentleman  by  birth,  and  had  come  of  a  fine  family  in 
England.  That 's  where  you  get  your  swell  looks 
from,  Claire.  Yes,  you  are  a  swell,  even  though, 
you've  got  on  a  frock  that  didn't  cost,  altogether, 
as  much  as  one  yard  of  mine.  .  .  .  Why,  just  look 
at  me  !  I'm  awkward  and  clumsy,  exactly  as  I  was 
at  Mrs.  Arcularius's.  I  "11  never  be  any  different. 
And  yet  I  spend  loads  and  loads  of  money  on  my 
things.  I  do,  really  !  But  gracious  goodness  !  there 
you  sit,  with  your  sweet,  pure  face,  shaped  like  a 
heart,  and  your  hair  that 's  got  the  same  bright 
sparkle  through  its  brown  that  it  used  to  have,  and 
those  long  eyelashes  over  those  black-blue  kind  of 


140  AX  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

eyes,  and  that  cunning  little  dimple  in  your  chin,  and 
those  long,  slender,  ladylike  hands  "  — 

Here  Claire  stopped  her,  with  a  sad  smile  and  a 
shake  of  the  head.  She  spread  open  one  hand,  hold 
ing  it  up  for  scrutiny  at  the  same  moment. 

"Don't  talk  of  my  hands,  Sophia,"  she  said. 
"  They  've  been  doing  hard  work  since  you  saw 
them  last." 

Sophia  gazed  down  at  the  inner  portion  of  her 
friend's  hand,  for  a  moment,  and  then  suddenly  ex 
claimed,  — 

"  Work  !  Why,  they  're  not  hard  a  bit.  Oh,  Claire, 
you  've  worn  gloves  all  the  time  you  worked.  Come, 
own  up,  now  !  " 

Claire  smiled  in  ^i  furtive  way.  But  she  spoke 
with  simple  frankness  the  next  instant.  "  Well,  yes, 
Sophia,"  she  said,  "  I  have  worn  gloves  as  often  as 
I  could.  I  wanted  to  save  my  hands.  Some  of  the 
girls  at  Mrs.  Arcularius's  used  to  call  them  pretty. 
I  wanted  them  to  stay  pretty  —  if  I  could  manage 
it.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  so.  But  I  thought  they 
must  have  lost  every  trace  of  nice  looks  by  this 
time." 

Sophia  bent  over  the  hand  that  she  still  held,  and 
whose  palm  was  turned  upward  to  the  light,  so  that 
all  its  inner  details,  from  wrist  to  finger-tips,  could 
not  possibly  escape  notice. 

"  Why,  there  's  a  pink  flush  all  round  the  edge,  in 
side  there,"  commented  Sophia.  "  It 's  funny,  Claire. 
I  never  saw  it  in  any  other  girl's  hand  before.  It 's 
just  like  the  rose-color  at  the  edge  of  a  shell.  Upon 
my  word  it  is  !  I  don't  care  a  straw  what  work 
you  've  been  doing  ;  you  've  got  hands  like  —  well,  I 
was  going  to  say  like  a  queen.  But  I  don't  doubt  a 


AN"  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  141 

good  many  queens  have  awful  hands,  so  I  '11  say  like 
a  lady.  .  .  .  There,  kiss  me  again.  .  .  .  Here 's  Ma. 
Don't  mind  Ma.  She  '11  be  nice.  She  always  is  nice 
•when  I  want  her  to  be.  Lwi't  that  so,  Ma  ?  " 

A  lady  had  just  entered  the  small,  brilliantly-ap 
pointed  room  in  which  Claire  and  Sophia  had  thus 
far  held  their  rather  noteworthy  converse.  The  lady 
was  Mrs.  Bergemann. 

She  was  exceedingly  stout ;  both  in  visage  and 
form  she  looked  like  a  matured  and  intensified  So 
phia.  As  far  as  features  went,  she  wonderfully  re 
sembled  her  daughter.  Every  undue  trait  of  plump 
ness  in  Sophia's  countenance  was  reproduced  by  Mrs. 
Bergemann  with  a  sort  of  facial  compound  interest. 
Flesh  seemed  to  have  besieged  her,  like  a  comic  mal 
ady.  Her  good-natured  eyes  sparkled  between  two 
creases  of  it ;  her  loose,  full  chin  revealed  more  than 
one  fold  of  it.  She  was  by  no  means  attired  like  a 
widow  of  recent  bereavement.  She  wore  a  bonnet 
in  which  there  was  no  violence  of  coloring ;  it  was 
purple  and  brown,  but  at  the  same  time  so  severely 
a  la  mode  that  if  any  symbul  lurked  behind  its  dec 
orative  fantasies  this  must  have  signified  the  sooth 
ing  influences  of  resignation  and  consolation. 

She  had  heard  her  daughter's  last  words.  She  was 
devoted  to  Sophia  ;  it  was  an  allegiance  wed  with 
pride.  She  had  been  a  poor  German  girl,  years  ago, 
and  had  drifted,  through  the  chance  of  matrimony, 
into  her  present  opulent  place.  She  was  by  nature 
meek  and  conciliatory  ;  all  Sophia's  temper  and  te 
merity  had  come  from  her  father,  who  had  combined 
large  superficial  good-humor  with  a  notorious  intoler 
ance  of  the  least  fancied  wrong.  Sophia's  last  words 
had  embarrassed  her.  She  had  no  idea  who  Claire 


142  AN  AMBITIOUS 

was,  but  the  evident  cordiality  of  her  daughter's  de 
portment  produced  the  effect  of  a  gentle  mandate. 

"  I  shan't  go  driving,  Ma!  "  Sophia  exclaimed,  after 
she  had  made  Claire  and  her  mother  acquainted. 
u  I  '11  stay  at  home  and  talk  of  old  times  with  Claire 
Twining.  Poor  Claire  's  in  trouble,  Ma.  I  won't  tell 
you  about  it  yet.  You  go  off  in  the  carriage  —  that 
is,  if  it  ever  comes  ;  but  I  'm  afraid  we  '11  have  to  dis 
charge  Thomas;  he's  always  behind  time." 

"  The  carriage  is  here,  Sophia,"  said  Mrs.  Berge- 
mann.  She  spoke  without  the  slightest  German  ac 
cent  ;  this  had  perished  long  ago.  She  was  looking 
at  Claire  with  the  manner  of  one  who  has  been 
deeply  attracted.  "  I  've  often  heard  you  mention 
Miss  Twining,"  she  went  on.  "  You  was  talking  of 
her  only  the  other  day,  wasn't  you,  Sophia?" 

"•  Yes,"  said  Sophia,  rising.  She  went  to  her 
mother,  and  spoke  a  few  low  words,  which  Claire 
quite  failed  to  hear.  The  prompt  result  of  this  in 
tercourse  was  Mrs.  Bergemann'a  exit  from  the  room. 
Sophia  followed  her  to  the  door,  with  one  hand  laid 
upon  her  shoulder. 

"  All  right,  Ma,"  she  said,  pausing  a  moment  on 
the  threshold.  "  You  go  and  take  your  drive.  I  '11 
stay  and  chat  with  Claire." 

A  little  while  afterward  Sophia  had  reseated  her 
self  at  Claire's  side.  "  Ma  likes  you,"  she  at  once 
began,  in  her  voluble,  oddly  frank  way.  "  She  told 
me  she  did.  She's  very  funny  about  liking  and  dis 
liking  people.  She  takes  fancies  —  or  she  does  n't. 
Ma  isn't  a  swell.  She  's  what  they  call  vulgar.  But 
she  's  ever  so  nice.  She  never  had  much  education, 
but  she  has  a  large,  warm  heart.  I  wouldn't  have 
her  one  bit  different  from  what  she  is.  I  would  n't 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  143 

give  Ma  for  Queen  Victoria.  She  and  I  are  the 
dearest  friends  in  the  world.  I  know  you  '11  like  her, 
Claire.  She  likes  you,  as  I  said.  And  Claire,  look 
here,  now ;  I  want  to  say  something.  It  may  stir- 
prise  you.  I  hope,  though,  that  it  will  please  you, 
too.  You  're  going  to  stay  here  in  this  house.  You  're 
going  to  live  here  as  my  friend.  Yes,  you  are.  You 
were  always  as  smart  as  a  steel  trap.  We  '11  read 
together,  every  morning.  Yes,  we  will.  You  know 
what  a  perfect  fool  I  used  to  be  at  Mrs.  Arcularius's. 
Well,  I  'm  the  same  fool  still.  But  you  know  a  lot ; 
you  always  did.  And  you  shall  help  me  to  be  less  of 
an  ignoramus  than  I  am.  We  've  got  a  library  up 
stairs.  Oh,  there  are  a  crowd  of  books.  I  got  Mr. 
Thurston  to  buy  them  for  me.  He 's  a  gentleman 
friend  of  ours,  and  he  knows  a  tremendous  amount. 
He  just  rilled  all  the  book-shelves  for  us.  I  'm  sure 
he  bought  the  right  kind  of  books,  too  ;  he  knows 
pretty  much  everything  in  that  line.  Now,  Claire, 
if  you  '11  do  as  I  say,  we  '11  get  along  splendidly  to 
gether.  And  as  for  .  .  .  well,  as  for  salary,  you 
know,  I  '11  "  — 

Here  Claire  rose,  placing  a  hand  on  Sophia's  arm. 
"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  could  n't  accept  such  a  place  as 
that.  I  'm  not  able  to  fill  it.  I  have  been  living  a 
life  of  hard  work  for  three  or  four  years  past.  I  've 
scarcely  looked  into  a  book,  Sophia,  in  all  that  time. 
I  came  here  to  ask  you  if  you  would  get  me  work. 
I  can  sew  very  well ;  I  was  always  clever  with  my 
needle.  If  you  will  give  me  something  of  that  sort 
to  do,  I  will  gladly  and  thankfully  remain.  But 
otherwise,  I  can't." 


IX. 


SOPHIA  consented  to  this  plan,  but  only  as  a  stra 
tegical  manoeuvre.  She  had  determined  that  Claire 
should  fill  precisely  the  position  just  proffered  her, 
and  no  other.  By  seeming  to  yield  she  at  length 
won  her  cause.  She  was  quite  in  earnest  about  her 
wish  for  mental  improvement.  Nor  was  Claire,  in 
spite  of  latter  years  passed  under  the  gloom  of  toil, 
half  as  much  at  sea  among  the  many  smart-bound 
volumes  of  the  library  as  she  herself  had  expected. 
She  had  been,  in  her  day,  a  diligent  student ;  she 
found  that  she  remembered  this  or  that  famous 
writer,  as  she  examined  book  after  book.  Now  and 
then  a  celebrated  name  recurred  to  her  with  sharp 
appeal  of  recollection ;  again  she  had  a  vivid  sense 
of  forgetfulness,  and  of  ignorance  as  well.  But  she 
was  of  the  kind  who  read  swiftly  and  retain  with 
force.  It  was  not  long  before  she  had  discovered 
certain  volumes  which  guided  and  at  the  same  time 
instructed  her  in  just  that  literary  direction  needful 
fur  the  task  required  by  her  would-be  pupil.  A  great 
deal  of  her  old  intellectual  method  and  industry  soon 
came  back  to  her.  She  turned  the  pages  of  the  many 
good  books  stored  on  the  shelves  near  by  with  a  hand 
more  composed  and  deliberate ;  she  began  to  see  just 
what  Sophia  wanted  her  to  do,  and  realize  her  full 
capability  of  doing  it. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  145 

Meanwhile  a  week  or  more  had  passed.  She  was 
now  clad  in  appropriate  mourning.  She  was  one  of 
the  family.  Sophia,  devoted  and  affectionate,  was 
constantly  at  her  side. 

Now  and  then  Claire  said,  with  a  nervous  laugh, 
"  I  'm  afraid  I  have  never  learned  enough  to  be  of 
the  least  use  to  you,  Sophia,  in  the  way  you  've  pro 
posed." 

But  Sophia  would  smile,  and  answer,  "  Oh,  I  'm 
not  afraid,  Claire  dear.  You  '11  get  it  all  back  again, 
pretty  soon." 

She  rapidly  got  it  all  back  again,  and  a  great  deal 
more,  besides.  The  morning  readings  began.  Sophia 
soon  expressed  herself  as.  in  raptures  ;  but  it  was  the 
teacher  that  charmed  her  far  more  than  the  teach 
ing. 

Claire's  life  was  now  one  of  easy  luxury.  She 
walked  or  drove  with  Sophia  every  afternoon ;  she 
ate  delicate  food ;  she  slept  in  a  spacious  bed-cham 
ber  that  possessed  every  detail  of  comfort ;  all  things 
moved  along  on  oiled  wheels ;  the  machinery  of  her 
life  had  lost  all  its  clogging  rust.  Greenpoint  began 
to  fade  from  her  thoughts ;  it  grew  a  dim,  detested 
memory.  Scarcely  a  day  passed,  however,  without 
she  definitely  recalled  some  incident  connected  with 
her  father.  Now  that  this  softness  and  daintiness 
surrounded  her,  the  refinement  which  no  adverse 
years  could  alienate  from  his  personality  became  for 
her  a  more  distinct  conception.  She  realized  how 
complete  a  gentleman  he  had  been.  At  the  same 
time,  under  these  altered  conditions,  her  own  taste 
for  the  superfine  niceties  of  cultivation  increased  with 
much  speed.  She  was  like  a  plant  that  has  been 
borne  back  to  its  native  soil  and  clime  from  some 
10 


146  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

land  where  it  has  hitherto  lived  but  as  a  dwarfed 
and  partial  growth  ;  the  foliage  was  expanding,  the 
fibre  was  strengthening,  the  flowers  were  taking  a 
warmer  tint  and  a  richer  scent. 

She  soon  perceived  that  the  Bergemanns  moved  in 
a  set  of  almost  uniformly  vulgar  people.  Many  of 
them  seemed  very  wealthy.  Nearly  all  of  them 
dressed  handsomely  and  drove  about  in  their  private 
carriages.  Not  a  few  of  them  lived  in  fine  adjacent 
houses  on  "  the  Avenue,"  as  it  is  called.  Sophia 
had  a  number  of  intimate  friends,  maidens  of  her 
own  age,  who  constantly  visited  her.  She  had  admir 
ers,  too,  of  the  other  sex,  who  would  sometimes,  call 
for  her  of  an  evening,  and  take  her  to  a  party,  unat 
tended  by  any  chaperone.  She  went,  during  the 
winter  months,  to  numerous  parties.  She  belonged 
to  an  organization  which  she  always  spoke  of  as 
"  our  sociable,"  and  which  met  at  the  various  homes 
of  its  female  members.  One  evening  a  "  sociable  " 
was  given  at  the  Bergemann  mansion.  The  music 
and  dancing  were  kept  up  till  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  the  house  was  effectively  adorned  with 
flowers.  Claire,  because  of  her  mourning,  abstained 
from  this  and  all  similar  gayety.  But  as  a  matter 
of  course  she  met  many  of  Sophia's  and  Mrs.  Berge- 
mann's  friends.  Only  one  of  all  the  throng  had 
power  pleasurably  to  interest  her. 

This  exceptional  person  was  Mr.  Beverley  Thurs- 
ton,  whom  we  have  already  heard  Sophia  mention  as 
having  selected  the  volumes  of  her  mother's  library. 
He  was  a  man  about  forty  years  old,  who  had  never 
married.  His  figure  was  tall  and  shapely  ;  his  face, 
usually  grave,  was  capable  of  much  geniality.  He 
had  traveled,  read,  thought,  and  observed.  He  stood 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  147 

somewhat  high  in  the  legal  profession,  and  came,  on 
the  maternal  side,  of  a  somewhat  noted  family.  He 
managed  the  large  estate  of  Mrs.  Bergemann  and  her 
daughter,  and  solely  on  this  account  was  a  frequent 
guest  at  their  house.  He  had  one  widowed  sister, 
of  very  exclusive  views,  who  possessed  large  means, 
and  who  placed  great  value  upon  her  position  as  a 
fashionable  leader.  For  several  years  this  lady  (still 
called  by  courtesy  Mrs.  Winthrop  Van  Horn)  had 
haughtily  refused  her  brother's  urgent  request  that 
she  should  leave  a  card  upon  Mrs.  Bergemann, 
though  several  thousand  a  year  resulted  from  his  con 
nection  with  the  deceased  brewer's  property.  But 
Mr.  Thurston,  while  he  succumbed  to  the  arrogant 
obstinacy  of  his  sister,  had  employed  great  tact  in 
blinding  his  profitable  patrons  to  the  awkward  truth 
of  her  disdain.  He  hud  been  bored  for  three  years 
past  by  his  politic  intimacy  with  Sophia  and  her 
mother,  and  he  had  always  felt  a  lurking  dread  lest 
they  should  make  a  sudden  appeal  for  his  aid  in  the 
way  of  social  advancement.  But  here  he  had  com 
mitted  a  marked  error.  Mrs.  Bergemann  and  Sophia 
understood  nothing  whatever  about  social  advance 
ment.  They  were  both  magnificently  contented  with 
their  present  places  in  society.  The  inner  patrician 
mysteries  were  quite  unknown  to  them.  Their  igno 
rance,  in  this  respect,  was  a  serene  bliss.  They  be 
lieved  themselves  valuably  important.  They  saw  no 
new  heights  to  gain. 

Mr.  Thurston  had  long  secretly  smiled  at  their  self- 
confidence.  He  was  a  clever  observer ;  he  had  seen 
the  world ;  the  Bergemanns  were  sometimes  a  deli 
cious  joke  to  him,  when  he  felt  in  an  appreciative 
mood.  At  other  times  the  bouncing,  coltish  manners 


148  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

of  Sophia,  and  the  educational  deficiencies  of  her 
mother,  grated  harshly  upon  his  nerves.  But  when 
Claire  entered  the  household  he  at  once  experienced 
a  new  sensation.  He  watched  her  in  quiet  wonder. 
No  points  of  her  beauty  escaped  his  trained  eye. 
What  he  had  learned  of  her  past  career  made  her 
seem  to  him  remarkable,  even  phenomenal.  By  de- 
~grees  an  intimacy  was  established  between  them. 
'"  At  first  it  concerned  literary  subjects  ;  Claire  con 
sulted  him  about  the  books  appropriate  for  her  read 
ings  with  Sophia.  But  they  soon  talked  of  other 
things,  and  occasionally  these  chats  took  the  form  of 
very  private  tete-d-tetes.  Claire  was  perfectly  loyal 
to  her  new  friends,  but  she  could  not  crush  a  spirit  of 
inquiry,  of  investigation  and  of  valuation,  so  far  as 
concerned  the  people  with  whom  they  associated. 

The  gentlemen  distressed  her  more  than  the  ladies. 
The  latter  were  often  so  full  of  grace  and  prettinesa 
that  their  loud  talk,  shrill  laughter,  and  faulty  gram 
mar  could  not  wholly  rid  them  of  charm.  But  the 
gentlemen  had  no  grace,  and  slight  good  looks  as  an 
offset  to  their  haphazard  manners.  Some  of  them 
appeared  to  be  quite  uneducated  ;  others  would  blend 
ignorance  with  conceit ;  still  others  were  ungallant 
and  ungracious,  and  not  seldom  pompously  boastful 
of  their  wealth. 

Mr.  Thurston  was  at  first  cautious  in  his  answers 
to  Claire's  rather  searching  questions.  But  by  de 
grees  he  threw  aside  restraint  ;  he  grew  to  under 
stand  just  why  he  was  thus  interrogated. 

He  had  a  slow  yet  significant  mode  of  talk  that 
was  nearly  sure  of  entertaining  any  listener.  Shal 
low  people  had  called  him  a  cynic,  but  not  a  few 
clever  ones  had  strongly  denied  this  charge.  Claire 

w    i/  o 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  149 

began  to  look  upon  him  as  one  who  was  forever  open 
ing  doors  for  her,  and  showing  her  glimpses  of  discov 
ery  that  either  surprised  or  impressed  the  gazer. 

On  the  evening  of  Sophia's  "sociable"  Claire  re 
mained  in  a  large  chamber  that  was  approached  from 
the  second  hall  of  the  house,  and  appointed  with  that 
admirable  taste  which  clearly  indicated  that  the  Ber- 
gemanns  had  once  confided  devoutly  in  their  uphol 
sterer,  just  as  they  now  did  in  their  milliner.  She 
was  quite  alone ;  she  held  a  book  open  in  her  lap, 
but  was  not  reading  it ;  her  black  dress  became  her 
charmingly ;  it  seemed  to  win  a  richer  shade  from 
the  chestnut-and-gold  of  her  tresses,  and  to  increase 
the  delightful  fragility  of  her  oval,  soft-tinted  face. 
The  music  below  stairs  kept  her  thoughts  away  from 
her  book ;  it  pealed  up  to  her  with  a  dulcet,  provoca 
tive  melody  ;  it  made  her  feel  that  she  would  love  to 
go  down  and  join  the  merry-makers.  But  this  was 
only  a  kind  of  abstract  emotion ;  there  was  nobody 
in  the  bright-lit,  flower-decked  drawing-rooms  whom 
she  would  have  cared  to  meet,  with  the  possible  ex 
ception  of  Mr.  Thurston,  although  what  she  then 
considered  his  advanced  age  made  him  seem  more 
suitable  as  a  companion  of  less  jubilant  hours. 

But  it  chanced  that,  a  knock  presently  sounded  at 
the  half -closed  door,  and  that  Mr.  Thurston  soon 
afterward  presented  himself.  He  sat  down  beside 
her.  His  evening  dress  had  a  felicity  of  cut  and  fit 
that  gave  his  naturally  stately  figure  an  added  dis 
tinction,  even  to  the  inexperienced  eye  of  Claire. 
She  thought  how  the  white  tie  at  his  throat  became 
him  —  how  different  he  was,  in  spite  of  the  gray  at 
his  temples  and  the  crow's-feet  under  his  hazel  eyes, 
from  the  younger  men  cla  1  in  similar  vesture,  whom 


150  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

she  had  seen  pass  through  the  upper  hall  a  little 
earlier  in  the  evening. 

By  this  time  Mr.  Thurston's  acquaintance  with 
Claire  had  grown  to  be  a  facile  and  agreeable  inti 
macy.  He  had  learned  from  Sophia  that  she  was 
here  alone,  and  he  had  sought  her  with  the  freedom 
of  one  wont  to  make  himself  wholly  at  home  in  the 
mansions  of  his  clients.  At  the  same  time,  as  it  hap 
pened,  he  came  with  a  vastly  fatigued  feeling  toward 
the  guests  below. 

"I  didn't  want  to  leave,"  he  began,  with  his  nice, 
social  smile,  "  until  I  had  seen  you  for  a  few  mo 
ments." 

"Ah,"  said  Claire,  pleased  at  his  coming,  and  with 
a  little  sweet-toned  laugh,  "  I  'm  afraid  you  came  up 
here  only  because  it  was  too  early  to  go  just  yet." 

Mr.  Thurston  put  his  head  on  one  side,  and  his 
eyes  twinkled  quizzically.  "  Oh,  come,  now,"  he 
said  ;  "  are  you  going  to  talk  badly  about  the  party  ? 
You  have  n't  seen  it.  I  'm  sure  you  'd  like  to  be 
down  there,  dancing  and  romping  among  all  those 
young  people." 

Claire  shook  her  head ;  she  looked  rather  serious 
as  she  did  so.  "  No,"  she  answered ;  "  I  should  n't 
like  it  at  all.  I  think  you  know  why.  There  is  no 
body  there  —  that  is,  among  the  guests  —  whom  I 
like.  Some  of  them  I  've  never  met.  But  I  don't 
doubt  that  they  are  all  much  the  same.  Now,  please 
don't  look  as  if  you  didn't  understand  me.  I  am 
sure  that  you  do,  perfectly.  Remember,  we  have 
talked  on  these  subjects  before." 

Mr.  Thurston  stroked  his  thick  gray  mustache, 
whose  ends  slightly  curved  against  cheeks  which 
somehow  looked  as  if  they  still  wore  the  sun-tan  of 
travel  in  remote  sultry  climates. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  151 

"  Of  course  we  have,  Miss  Claire,"  he  gently  ex 
claimed.  "  It 's  wonderful  what  an  inquiring  turn 
you  possess.  We  've  settled  that  there  's  no  treach 
ery  to  Sophia  and  her  mamma  in  all  these  dreadful 
things  that  you  and  I  say  ;  have  n't  we  ?  " 

"  Certainly  we  have  settled  it,"  returned  Claire, 
still  looking  serious.  "  But  I  'in  not  by  any  means 
sure  that  we  do  say  dreadful  things.  I  ask  the  truth, 
and  you  tell  it  me."  Here  Claire's  expression  sud 
denly  changed.  She  looked  at  her  companion  archly, 
and  each  cheek  dimpled.  "  At  least  I  hope  you  do." 

Mr.  Thurston  shifted  in  his  seat,  and  crossed  his 
legs.  "  I  do.  I  speak  by  the  card  when  you  ask 
questions.  I  'rn  compelled  to.  There  's  an  enormous 
earnestness  about  you.  You  make  me  think  of  a  per 
son  with  a  purpose.  I  'm  sure  you  have  a  purpose. 
I  have  n't  yet  fathomed  it,  but  I  'm  sure  it 's  there." 

"  I  have  a  purpose,"  Claire  said. 

"  Very  well.     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  To  know  about  the  world  I  live  in.  I  mean  New 
York,  of  course.  That  is  my  world,  now.  I  think  it 
a  very  nice  world.  At  least,  I  've  never  seen  a  better 
one." 

"  Yes  ;  I  understand.  And  you  want  to  explore 
it.  You  want  to  examine  it  in  detail.  You  want 
to  know  its  bad,  worse,  worst,  and  its  good,  better, 
best." 

"  I  want  to  know  its  good,  better,  best." 

Mr.  Thurston  laughed  again.  "  Do  you  know,"  he 
said,  "  that  the  more  I  see  of  you  the  more  you 
amuse  me  ?  No  ;  I  won't  say  '  amuse ' ;  I  '11  say  '  in 
terest.'  You  are  such  a  tremendous  type.  You  are 
so  characteristic.  I  called  you  a  person  with  a  pur 
pose,  just  now,  and  I  pretended  not  to  know  what 


152  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

your  purpose  was.  That  was  an  intentional  hypoc 
risy  on  my  part.  I  comprehend  your  purpose  thor 
oughly.  You  wish  to  find  out  what  New  York  society 
means.  You  're  making  a  mental  social  dictionary. 
And  you  desire  that  I  shall  supply  you  with  defini 
tions  to  the  best  extent  of  my  ability.  Isn't  that 
true  ?  Pray  confess,  now." 

Claire  looked  at  him  steadily  for  several  seconds. 
There  was  a  mild  yet  bright  spark  in  her  dusky-blue 
eyes,  and  a  faint  smile  on  her  lips. 

"  You  say  less  than  you  mean,"  she  answered.  "  I 
think  that  I  guess  what  is  behind  your  words.  I 
think  that  you  suspect  me  of  wishing  to  make  my 
dictionary  from  motives  of  future  personal  prefer 
ence.  That  is,  you  believe  that  I  am  a  girl  with 
strong  ambitions  —  that  I  want  to  rise,  thrive,  suc 
ceed.  .  .  .  Well,  you're  not  wrong.  I  do  want  to 
rise,  thrive,  succeed.  It's  in  me,  as  the  saying  goes. 
I  can't  help  the  impulse." 

Mr.  Thurston  lifted  both  hands  and  slightly  waved 
them.  "  The  impulse  is  enough  —  with  you,"  he 
said. 

Claire  started.    "  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked. 

Mr.  Thurston  looked  at  the  floor,  for  a  moment, 
then  raised  his  eyes.  They  dwelt  on  Claire's  very 
forcefully. 

"I  mean,"  he  said,  "that  you  are  too  beautiful 
and  charming  not  to  gain  your  object." 

Claire  laughed,  lightly  and  yet  a  little  consciously. 
"  That  is  very  kind  of  you.  If  a  young  man  had 
only  said  it !  How  delighted  I  would  have  been  !  " 

"  Then  you  think  me  so  very  old  ?  "  Thurston  re 
plied,  watching  her  face  with  intentness. 

"  Oh,  no,"  Claire  at  once  said,  growing   serious 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  153 

again.  "  Not  that,  of  course.  But  still  .  .  .  well, 
it  would  be  idle  for  me  to  declare  that  I  think  you 
young." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  younger  than  you  think,"  he  said, 
with  low,  peculiar  emphasis  on  each  word.  "  Mind, 
I  only  say  '  perhaps.'  .  .  .  But  do  not  let  us  talk  of 
that.  As  I  told  you,  I  am  sure  you  will  gain  your 
object.  You  will  succeed.  That  is,  you  will  find  a 
higher  level  than  these  poor  Bergemanns.  There  is 
a  restless  fire  in  your  soul  that  will  goad  you  on. 
And  in  the  end  you  must  win." 

"  Tell  me  by  what  means,  please." 

"  Marriage  will  be  your  first  stepping-stone." 

"  To  what  ?  " 

"Success." 

"  Success  in  what  form  ?  " 

"  Social  success.  I  assume  that  your  aim  lies 
there.  You  want  men  and  women  of  a  certain  grade 
to  pay  you  courtesy  and  deference." 

Claire  seemed  to  muse,  for  a  brief  time.  "  Yes,  I 
do,"  she  then  said.  "  You  are  quite  right.  But  you 
speak  of  my  gaining  all  this  by  marriage.  How 
shall  I  meet  the  man  who  is  to  lend  me  such  impor 
tant  help  ?  " 

There  was  a  daring  candor  about  this  question  — 
a  simplicity  of  wordliness,  in  fact  —  which  startled 
her  hearer.  But  his  usual  gravity  betrayed  no  signs 
of  dismay. 

"  You  will  meet  him,"  he  said,  tranquilly.  "  Oh, 
yes  ;  you  will  meet  him.  It  is  your  fate.  He  will 
drop  to  you  from  the  skies.  But  after  you  have 
secured  through  matrimony  this  desired  end,  will  you 
be  contented  with  what  you  have  secured  ?  So  much 
depends  on  that  —  the  success  of  your  success,  as  one 
might  say." 


154  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Claire  raised  her  brows  in  demure  perplexity.  "  I 
don't  understand,"  she  murmured. 

Thurston  slowly  shook  his  head.  A  smile  was  on 
his  lips,  but  it  held  sadness,  and  a  hint  of  pity  as 
well.  "  If  I  read  you  rightly,"  he  answered,  "  you 
will  understand,  some  day." 

Claire  made  an  impatient  gesture.  "  Please  don't 
talk  in  riddles,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Do  you  mean  that 
the  prize  will  turn  out  worthless  after  I  have  got  it  ? 
I  have  not  found  this  true  in  my  reading.  I  have 
not  found  many  kings  or  queens  who  wearied  so 
much  of  their  thrones  that  they  were  ready  to  resign 
them."  An  eagerness  now  possessed  her  manner  ; 
she  leaned  slightly  forward  ;  her  nostril  dilated  a 
little ;  her  color  deepened.  "  Power  and  place  are 
what  I  want,  and  never  to  have  them  will  be  never 
to  have  contentment.  This  sounds  cold  to  you.  I  'm 
sure  of  it." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  softly  ;  "  it  sounds  very  cold.  But 
I  don't  know  that  such  a  coldness  as  that  will  not 
prove  for  you  a  tough  safeguard.  It  is  very  protec 
tive  to  a  woman  —  if  it  lasts." 

"  Mine  will  last,  such  as  it  is." 

"  I  neither  affirm  nor  deny  that  it  will.  Time  will 
show." 

She  broke  into  a  laugh,  full  of  sportive  irony. 
"  You  mean  that  I  may  fall  in  love  with  somebody. 
But  I  have  little  fear  of  that."  .  .  .  Her  face  sud 
denly  grew  very  sober,  and  her  voice  trembled  some 
what  as  she  next  said :  "  I  loved  my  poor  dead 
father  dearly.  I  shall  never  love  any  one  else  half  so 
much  again.  No  mere  words  could  tell  you  of  my 
firm  certainty  on  this  subject.  But  the  certainty  re 
mains,  I  don't  mean  that  I  wish  to  live  a  loveless 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  155 

life.  Far  from  that !  I  wish  to  have  friends  in 
abundance.  And  I  shall  not  be  disloyal  to  them  in 
any  case.  But  they  must  be  friends  of  influence, 
standing,  importance.  They  must  not  be  like  the 
Bergemanns,  though  I  mean  never  to  falter  for  an 
instant  in  my  grateful  fidelity  toward  Sophia  and  her 
mother." 

"  Your  frankness,"  said  Thurston,  with  one  of  his 
calm,  wise  smiles,  "  has  a  positive  prodigality.  What 
another  woman  would  hide  with  the  most  jealous 
care,  you  openly  speak.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  your 
experience  is  yet  limited." 

"  I  should  not  talk  to  every  one  as  I  talk  to  you," 
Claire  quickly  answered. 

He  took  one  of  her  hands  in  his  for  a  few  moments. 
He  held  it,  and  she  let  him  do  so.  He  looked  into 
her  face  with  great  fixity. 

"  My  poor  child,"  he  said,  "  you  have  a  hard  road 
before  you.  But  I  know  you  mean  to  tread  it  with 
determined  feet.  In  many  women  there  would  be 
something  repellent  about  such  resolves  as  those  you 
have  just  confessed.  In  you  they  are  charming.  I 
suppose  that  is  easily  explained :  you  are  charm 
ing  yourself.  I  shall  watch  your  career  with  the 
deepest  concern.  You  will  not  mind  if  I  watch  it  ? 
Am  I  wrong,  here  ?  " 

Claire,  still  letting  him  keep  her  hand,  swiftly  re 
plied :  "Oh,  no;  of  course  I  shall  not  mind.  You 
belong  to  that  other  world.  You  are  one  of  the  peo 
ple  whom  I  wish  to  have  for  my  adherents  —  my 
clients,  as  it  were.  I  hope  we  shall  always  be  friends. 
I  like  you  very  greatly.  You  remember  we  have 
talked  it  all  over  before  now.  You  have  told  me  of 
the  people  whom  I  wish  to  meet.  You  have  even 


156  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

told  me  some  of  their  names.  I  have  forgotten  noth 
ing  of  what  you  have  said.  I  count  you  as  my  first 
conquest.  If  others  follow  —  as  I  firmly  believe  that 
they  will  —  we  will  have  talks  together,  and  laugh 
over  the  old  times  when  I  was  obscure  and  a  nobody. 
Yes,  if  I  ever  get  to  be  that  great  lady  you  prophesy 
that  I  shall  become,  we  will  discuss,  in  little  intimate 
chats,  every  detail  of  my  progress  toward  grandeur 
and  distinction.  It  will  be  very  pleasant,  will  it  not  ? 
But  now  I  must  say  something  that  I  have  never 
said  before.  I  must  ask  you  to  help  me.  Why 
should  you  not  do  so  ?  You  have  means  of  doing  so. 
And  you  like  me  ;  we  are  excellent  friends.  If  you 
give  me  some  real  aid  I  will  never  forget  it.  I  'in 
not  ungrateful.  I  'm  cold,  if  you  choose,  in  a  certain 
way,  but  I  always  recollect  a  service.  Don't  think  I 
am  begging  any  favor  of  you.  I  'm  rather  requiring 
one.  Yes,  requiring.  You  've  told  me  that  you 
think  I  have  .  .  .  well  that  I  'm  not  ugly.  You 
know  just  what  I  want  to  do.  And  you  've  said 
that  I  have  .  .  .  well  that  I  rm  very  far  from  a 
fool.  .  .  .  Now  let  us  strike  a  compact.  Shall  we  ? 
Put  me  into  some  path  where  I  may  reach  your  fine, 
grand  world,  in  which  I  should  like  to  shine  and  bo 
a  power  ! " 

The  audacity  of  this  whole  speech  was  exquisite. 
In  plain  substance  it  belonged  to  what  we  call  by 
kharsh  names.  It  was  the  sort  of  thing  that  in  ordi 
nary  dealing  we  denounce  and  even  contemn,  as  the 
effort  of  unsolicited  pretension  to  thrust  itself  against 
barred  gates  with  immodest  vigor.  But  in  Claire's 
case  there  was  no  question  of  ordinary  dealing.  Her 
impetuosity  was  so  lovety,  her  youth,  her  beauty,  and 
her  freshness  were  so  entirely  delightful,  that  the 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  157 

unreserved  freedom  with  which  she  spoke  of  aims  in 
their  essence  purely  selfish  acquired  a  charming  pict- 
uresqueness.  Her  ambition,  thus  openly  expressed, 
lost  every  trace  of  gross  worldly  meaning.  She  be 
came,  to  the  eyes  of  him  who  watched  her,  a  fas 
cinating  zealot.  She  seemed  to  demand  what  was 
merely  her  just  due.  It  was  indeed  as  though  she 
had  been  robbed  by  some  hostile  fate  of  a  royalty 
that  she  now  declared  her  stolen  right,  and  proudly 
reclaimed.  All  this  time  she  had  let  Thurston  re 
tain  her  hand,  Once  or  twice  her  slight  fingers 
pressed  against  his  palm,  with  unconscious  warmth. 
Her  face,  meanwhile,  lifted  above  the  darkness  of 
her  mourning  robes,  was  sweet  and  brilliant  as  some 
early  dew-washed  flower. 

Thurston  fixed  his  gaze  upon  her  eyes,  whose 
dark-blue  depths  were  full  of  a  rich,  liquid  light. 
His  clasp  tightened  about  her  hand. 

"  I  will  give  you  my  help,"  he  said,  with  a  new 
note  in  his  voice  that  was  a  sort  of  husky  throb ;  "I 
will  give  it  to  you  gladly.  But  I  am  afraid  you  will 
not  accept  it  when  it  is  offered." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Claire,  still  not  guessing  the 
truth,  "  I  will  accept  it  most  willingly,  since  it  comes 
from  one  whom  I  know  to  be  my  friend  and  well- 
wisher." 

'•  That  is  not  what  I  mean,"  Thurston  objected. 
He  rose  as  he  spoke,  still  holding  Claire's  hand. 

She  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  She  perceived 
his  changed  manner.  "  Explain,"  she  said.  "  How 
do  you  meau  that  you  will  help  me  ?  " 

"  I  will  help  you  as  my  wife,"  Thurston  replied. 
He  looked  as  grave,  as  gray,  as  bronzed,  as  always  ; 
but  hio  voice  was  in  n  hoarse  flurry.  "  J  will  help 


158  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

you,  as  my  wife,  to  be  something  more  than  a  great 
lady.  You  shall  be  that,  if  you  choose,  but  you  shall 
be  more.  Your  ambition  is  made  of  finer  stuff  than 
you  know.  I  will  help  you  to  see  just  how  fine  it  is." 

The  instant  that  he  began  to  speak  thus  Claire  had 
drawn  away  her  hand.  She  did  not  rise.  But  she 
now  looked  up  at  him,  and  shook  her  head  with 
negative  vehemence. 

"  No,  no !  "  bhe  said.     The  words  rang  sharply. 


X. 

NOT  long  afterward  Claire  found  herself  alone. 
Thurston  had  gone.  She  felt  her  cheeks  burn  as  she 
sat  and  stared  at  the  floor.  His  declaration  had 
strangely  shocked  her,  at  first,  for  the  entire  man, 
as  it  were,  had  undergone  a  transformation  so  abrupt 
and  radical  as  to  wear  a  hue  of  actual  miracle ;  and 
it  is  only  across  a  comfortable  lapse  of  centuries  that 
the  human  mind  can  regard  such  manifestations  with 
anything  like  complacency.  Balaam  could  not  have 
been  more  bewildered  and  disturbed  when  the  Ass 
spoke.  Claire  had  never  thought  of  Thurston  as  ca 
pable  of  a  live  sentiment  toward  any  woman.  She 
had  taken  it  for  granted  that  all  this  part  of  his 
nature  was  in  dignified  decay,  like  his  hair  and  com 
plexion.  She  had  drifted  unconsciously,  soniehow, 
into  the  conviction  that  his  passions,  if  he  had  ever 
felt  them,  were  now  like  the  lavendered  relics  that 
we  shut  away  in  chests.  She  had  warmed  to  him 
with  a  truly  filial  ardor,  and  this  sudden  ruin  of  their 
mutual  relations  now  gave  her  acute  stings  of  regret. 

But  Thurston,  who  had  managed  to  depart  from 
her  with  a  good  deal  of  nice  repose  of  visage  and  de 
meanor,  also  contrived,  with  that  skill  born  of  wide 
social  experience,  to  make  their  next  meeting  by  far 
lens  awkward  than  Cfciire  herself  had  nervously  an 
ticipated.  Sophia  and  Mrs.  Bergemanu  were  both 


160  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

present  on  tins  occasion.  He  looked  at  Claire  in  so 
ordinary  a  way,  and  spoke  with  so  much  apparent 
ease  and  serenity,  that  her  self-possession  was  fed  by 
his,  and  her  dread  swiftly  became  thankful  relief. 

Through  the  days  that  followed,  Claire  and  Thurs- 
ton  gradually  yet  firmly  resumed  their  past  agreeable 
converse.  Of  course  matters  could  never  be  the  same 
between  them.  He  stood  toward  her,  inevitably,  in 
a  new  light ;  a  cloak  had  fallen  from  him  ;  she  was 
not  quite  sure  whether  she  liked  him  less  or  more, 
now  that  she  knew  him  as  the  man  who  had  asked 
her  to  be  his  wife ;  but  in  reality  she  did  like  him 
much  more,  and  this  was  because,  being  a  woman, 
she  constantly  divined  his  admiration  beneath  the 
intimate  yet  always  guarded  courtesy  of  his  manner. 

Their  former  chats  Avere  resumed,  steadily  inter 
rogative  on  her  side,  complaisantly  responsive  on  his. 
As  Winter  softened  into  Spring,  the  dissipations  of 
Sophia  decreased.  She  had  more  evenings  at  home, 
and  not  a  few  of  her  devotees  would  pay  her  visits 
during  the  hours  of  nine  and  eleven.  It  frequently 
happened  that  Thurston  would  enter  the  drawing- 
room  at  such  times.  He  always  talked  with  Claire, 
who  would  often  emerge  from  back  recesses  on  his 
arrival.  Both  Sophia  and  her  mother  would  occa 
sionally  deliver  themselves  of  comments  upon  the 
evident  preference  of  their  legal  adviser.  But  Mrs. 
Bergeinann  was  much  more  outspoken  than  her 
daughter.  Sophia  could  not  bring  herself  to  believe 
that  there  was  "  anything  in  it,"  as  her  own  phrase 
repeatedly  went.  She  thought  Beverly  Thurston 
"just  as  nice  as  he  could  be"  ;  but  the  slender  and 
blooming  beauty  of  Claire  mffcle  to  her  young  eyes 
anomalous  contrast  with  Thurston's  fade  though  at 
tractive  appearance. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  161 

"  Good  gracious,  Ma ! "  she  once  asseverated,  in 
private  debate,  "  Claire  would  n't  ever  think  of  mar 
rying  a  man  old  enough  to  be  her  father !  " 

"  She  might  do  worse,  now,  Sophia,"  protested 
Mrs.  Bergemann,  with  the  coolly  formulated  style  of 
talk  and  thought  which  marks  so  many  matrons  when 
they  discuss  matrimonial  subjects.  "  You  just  leave 
Claire  alone.  Wait  and  see  what  she  '11  do.  He  's 
taken  a  shine  to  her.  Recollect,  she  ain't  got  a  cent, 
poor  dear  girl.  He  'd  make  a  splendid  husband.  I 
guess  he  '11  propose  soon.  I  hope  he  will,  too.  He  's 
a  real  ellergant  gentleman.  Just  think  how  we  trust 
him  with  rents  and  mortgages  and  things.  I  declare 
I  don't  scarcely  know  half  what  he  does  with  my  own 
property." 

"  Pshaw,  Ma,"  responded  Sophia,  with  vast  con 
tempt.  "  Claire  would  n't  look  at  him  that  way. 
She 's  young,  like  me.  She  may  be  as  poor  as  a 
church-mouse,  but  she  is  n't  going  to  sell  herself  like 
that.  Now  do  be  quiet." 

Mrs.  Bergemann  became  obediently  quiet.  But 
she  continued  to  have  her  private  opinions.  Mean 
while  Claire  and  Thurston  held  their  brief  or  long 
interviews,  as  chance  favored. 

Matters  had  rearranged  themselves  between  them 
on  the  old  basis.  There  was  a  change,  and  yet  not 
a  change.  Claire  spoke  with  all  her  former  freedom. 
Thurston  listened  and  replied  with  all  his  former 
concession. 

A  certain  admirer  of  Sophia's  had  of  late  deserted 
her,  and  sought  the  attention  of  Claire  whenever  oc 
casion  permitted.  His  name  was  Brady.  His  father 
was  the  owner  of  a  large  and  popular  emporium  on 

Sixth  Avenue.     He  was  an  only  child,  and  supplied 
U 


162  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

with  a  liberal  allowance.  The  mercantile  success  of 
his  father  had  been  comparatively  recent.  He  was 
now  three-and-twenty  ;  his  early  education  had  been 
one  long,  persistent  neglect.  After  the  money  had 
begun  to  flow  into  the  paternal  coffers,  Brady  had 
gone  abroad,  and  seen  vice  and  little  else  in  the  va 
rious  European  capitals,  and  finally,  coming  home 
again,  had  slipped,  by  a  most  natural  and  facile  proc 
ess,  into  just  that  ill-bred,  wealthy,  low-toned  set  of 
which  poor,  rich  Sophia  Bergemann  was  one  of  the 
leading  spirits. 

Claire  could  hardly  endure  the  attentions  of  Brady. 
She  was  civil  to  him  because  of  her  two  hostesses, 
whose  perception  in  all  matters  of  social  degree 
seemed  hopelessly  obtuse.  But  Brady  had  fallen  in 
love  with  her,  severely  and  effusively,  and  she  soon 
had  good  cause  to  know  it.  He  was  very  tall  and 
slim  of  figure,  with  a  face  whose  utter  smoothness 
would  have  been  the  despair  of  a  mercenary  barber. 
His  large  ears,  jutting  from  a  bullet-shaped  head, 
gave  to  this  head,  at  a  little  distance  away,  the  look 
of  some  odd,  unclassic  amphora.  He  spoke  very  in 
different  English,  and  always  kept  the  last  caprice 
of  slang  in  glib  readiness,  as  a  tradesman  will  keep 
his  newest  goods  where  he  can  soonest  reach  them. 
He  was  excessively  purse-proud,  and  liked  to  tell  you 
the  price  of  the  big  sunken  diamond  worn  on  his 
little  finger;  of  the  suite  of  rooms  at  his  expensive 
hotel ;  of  the  special  deep-olive  cigars,  dotted  with  a 
lighter  yellow  speck,  which  lined  his  ivory  cigar-case. 
He  possessed,  in  truth,  all  the  cardinal  vulgarities. 
He  was  lavishly  conceited ;  he  paid  no  deference  to 
age ;  he  had  not  a  vestige  of  gallantry  in  his  deport 
ment  toward  women  ;  his  self-possession  was  so  fran- 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  163 

gible  that  a  blow  could  shatter  it,  but  his  coarse 
wrath  would  at  once  rise  from  the  ruin,  like  the  foul 
aroma  from  a  broken"  phial.  At  such  times  he  would 
scowl  and  be  insolent,  quite  regardless  of  sex,  years, 
or  general  superiority  on  the  part  of  the  offender. 
Indeed,  he  admitted  no  superiority.  The  shadow  of 
the  Sixth  Avenue  emporium  hedged  him,  in  his  own 
shallow  esteem,  with  impregnable  divinity. 

"  I  think,"  said  Thurston,  speaking  of  him  one 
day  to  Claire,  "  that  he  is  truly  an  abominable  crea 
ture.  The  ancients  used  to  believe  that  monsters 
were  created  by  the  union  of  two  commingling  ele 
ments,  such  as  earth  and  heaven.  But  to-day  in 
America  we  have  a  horrid  progeny  growing  up  about 
us,  resultant  from  two  forces,  each  dangerous  enough 
by  itself,  but  both  deadly  when  they  meet.  I  mean 
Wealth  and  Ignorance.  This  Brady  is  their  child. 
If  he  were  merely  a  poor  man,  his  illiteracy  would  be 
endurable.  If  he  were  merely  illiterate,  we  could 
stand  his  opulence.  But  he  is  both  very  uneducated 
and  very  rich.  The  combination  is  a  horror.  He 
is  our  modern  way  of  being  devoured  by  dragons, 
minotaurs,  and  giants." 

Claire  laughed,  and  presently  shook  her  head  in 
gentle  argumentative  protest.  "  I  think  there  is  a 
flaw  in  your  theory,"  she  said,  "  and  I  '11  tell  you 
why.  There  are  the  Bergemanns.  Sophia,  I  admit, 
is  not  precisely  uncultivated  —  that  is,  she  has  had 
good  chances  of  instruction  and  not  profited  by  them. 
This  may  mean  little,  yet  it  is  surely  better  than  hav 
ing  had  no  chances  at  all.  But  Mrs.  Bergemann  — 
she  is  both  rich,  and  ignorant,  poor  dear  woman. 
And  yet  she  is  very  far  from  a  monster.  She  is  a 
sweet,  comfortable,  motherly  person.  She  would  not 


164  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

harm  a  fly."  Claire  put  her  head  a  little  sideways, 
and  looked  with  winsome  challenge  at  her  compan 
ion  ;  she  assumed  pretty  airs  and  graces  with  him, 
nowadays,  which  she  had  never  dealt  in  before  the 
occurrence  of  a  certain  momentous  episode.  "  What 
have  you  to  say,"  she  went  on,  "in  answer  to  my 
rather  shrewd  objection  ?  Does  n't  it  send  you  quite 
into  a  corner." 

"  Well,  I  confess  that  it  rather  floors  mo  to  have 
Mrs.  Bergemann  cited  against  me,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"  I  am  afraid  that  I  must  yield.  I  am  afraid  that 
my  theory  is  torn  in  tatters.  I  must  congratulate 
you  on  your  destructive  instincts." 

He  spoke  these  words  with  his  usual  robust  sort  of 
languor,  in  which  there  was  never  a  single  trace  of 
affectation  or  frivolity.  At  the  same  time  a  secret 
feeling  of  wonder  possessed  him  ;  he  was  thinking 
how  swiftly  active  had  been  the  change  in  Claire 
since  their  first  acquaintance.  She  had  told  him 
every  particular  of  her  past  life,  so  far  as  concerned 
its  opportunities  of  instruction.  He  marveled  now, 
as  he  had  repeatedly  done  on  recent  occasions,  at  her 
remarkable  power  to  grasp  new  phrases,  new  forms 
of  thought,  new  methods  of  inquiry.  She  had  never, 
from  the  first,  shown  a  gleam  of  coarseness.  But 
she  had  often  been  timid  of  speech  and  falteringly 
insecure  of  expression.  Yet  latterly  all  this  was  al 
tered.  Thurston  had  a  sense  of  how  phenomenal 
was  the  improvement.  It  was  plain  that  the  books 
in  the  library,  and  Claire's  power  of  fleet  reading,  had 
wrought  this  benefit  upon  a  mind  which  past  study 
and  training  had  already  rendered  flexibly  receptive. 
And  yet  all  of  the  explanation  did  not  lie  here  ;  at 
least  half  of  it  lurked  in  the  fact  that  she  had  quitted 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  165 

drudgery,  need,  and  depression.  Her  mental  shutters 
had  been  flung  open,  and  the  sunshine  let  to  stream 
in  through  the  casements,  A  few  days  later  she  had 
suspected  the  existence  of  Brady's  passion.  He 
made  no  attempt,  on  his  own  side,  to  conceal  his 
preference  for  her  society.  Claire  saw  love  in  Ills 
prominent,  slate-colored  eyes ;  she  saw  it  in  the  in 
creased  awkwardness  of  his  motions  when  he  either 
walked  or  sat  near  her ;  she  saw  it  in  his  bluff  yet 
repressed  bravado  of  manner,  as  though  he  were  at 
surly  odds  with  himself  for  having  been  suddenly  cut 
off  in  the  flower  of  his  vainglorious  bachelorhood. 
She  iiad  grown  sharper-sighted  foi*  the  detection  of 
these  tender  signs.  And  even  in  Brady  their  tender 
ness  was  unmistakable.  His  clownish  crudity  had 
softened,  in  all  its  raw  lines.  The  effect  might  be 
compared  to  those  graceful  disguises  in  which  we 
have  seen  moonlight  clothe  things  that  repel  us  un 
der  the  glare  of  day. 

One  morning  when  Claire  came  down  to  breakfast 
she  found  a  huge  basket  of  Jacqueminot  roses  await 
ing  her,  with  Brady's  card  attached  to  it.  She 
flushed,  for  a  moment,  almost  as  red  as  the  florid, 
velvety  petals  themselves.  Then  she  said,  equally 
addressing  Mrs.  Bergemann  and  Sophia  : 

"  How  strange  that  he  sent  them  to  me  !  There 
may  have  been  some  mistake." 

"  Oh,  not  a  bit  of  it !  "  Sophia  exclaimed.  "*He  's 
dead  gone  about  you,  Claire.  I  've  seen  it  lately. 
So  has  Ma."  Here  the  young  lady  turned  toward  her 
mother,  and  lifted  an  admonishing  ringer.  "  Now, 
Ma,  don't  you  say  a  thing  !  " 

But  Mrs.  Bergemann  would  say  a  number  of 
things.  Her  amiability  was  so  expansive,  and  made 


166  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

such  a  radius  of  glow  and  warmth  all  about  her,  that 
she  rarely  found  it  possible  to  dislike  anybody.  She 
had  failed  to  realize  that  Brady  was  an  offensive 
clod.  In  her  matrimonial  concern  for  Claire,  the 
fact  that  he  would  one  day,  as  the  only  child  of  his 
father,  inherit  a  vast  fortune,  reared  itself  before  her 
with  irresistible  temptation. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  she  declared,  "  I  don't  know  as 
any  girl  had  ought  to  refuse  a  fellow  as  awful  well- 
off  as  he  is.  Sophia's  always  talking  of  his  great 
big  ears,  and  his  boastful  ways,  and  his  style  of  get 
ting  into  tantrums  about  nothin'  whatever.  But 
still,  I  guess  he  might  make  a  good  husband.-  He 
might  be  just  the  kind  that'll  tame  down  and  be 
have  'emselves  after  marriage.  And  they  say  he 
ain't  a  bit  mean ;  he  ain't  got  that  fault,  anyhow. 
And  I  guess  he  'd  buy  a  manshun  on  the  Avenu  for 
any  girl  he  took,  and  just  make  her  shine  like  a 
light-house  with  di'monds,  and  roll  round  in  her  car 
riage,  and  be  high  an'  mighty  as  you  can  find.  1  'd 
think  twice,  Claire,  if  /  was  you,  before  I  let  him 
slip.  That  is,  I  mean  if  you  don't  decide  you  'd 
rather  have  Mr.  Thurston,  who  does  seem  fond  o' 
you,  though  I  ain't  said  so  before  in  your  hearing, 
dear,  and  who  's  an  ellergant  gentleman,  of  course, 
even  if  he  is  a  bit  too  old  for  a  fresh  young  thing 
like  yourself." 

Claire  laughed,  in  a  high  key,  trying  to  conceal 
her  nervousness.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Thurston  is  quite  too 
old,  Mrs.  Bergemann,"  she  said.  "  Please  be  sure  of 
that." 

The  rich  hue  of  the  roses  haunted  her  all  day, 
even  when  she  was  not  near  them.  Their  splendid 
crimson  seemed  like  a  symbol  of  the  luxury  that  she 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  167 

might  be  called  upon  to  refuse.  She  had  heard 
about  the  emporium  on  Sixth  Avenue.  It  made  her 
bosom  flutter  when  she  thought  of  being  the  mistress 
of  a  great  mansion,  and  wearing  diamonds  and  roll 
ing  about  in  her  carriage.  Then  she  remembered 
Thurston's  words  concerning  this  man  who  had  sent 
her  the  roses.  Was  he  so  much  of  a  monster,  after 
all  ?  Might  she  not  be  able  to  humanize  him  ?  For 
a  long  time  she  was  in  a  very  perturbed  state.  Dur 
ing  this  interval  it  almost  seemed  to  her  that  if  he 
should  ask  her  to  marry  him  she  would  nerve  herself 
and  answer  '  yes.' 

That  afternoon  she  did  not  go  to  drive  with  Sophia. 
Mrs.  Bergemann  went  in  her  place.  Claire  sat  beside 
one  of  the  big  plate-glass  windows  of  her  delightful 
chamber,  and  watched  the  clattering  streams  of  car 
riages  pass  below.  Some  of  these  she  had  now  grown 
to  remember  and  recognize  ;  a  few  of  them  possessed 
a  dignity  of  contour  and  equipment  that  pleased  her 
greatly.  She  would  have  liked  to  lean  back  upon  the 
cushions  of  some  such  vehicle,  and  have  its  footman 
jauntily  touch  his  hat  while  he  received  her  order 
from  within,  after  he  had  shut  the  shining  door  with 
a  hollow  little  clang.  The  door  should  have  arms 
and  crest  upon  it ;  she  would  strongly  prefer  a  door 
with  arms  and  crest. 

Suddenly,  while  watching  from  the  window,  she 
saw  a  flashy  brougham,  with  yellow  wheels,  a  light- 
liveried  coachman  and  a  large,  high-stepping  horse 
in  gilded  harness,  pause  before  the  Bergemanns' 
stoop.  The  next  instant  Brady  sprang  out,  and  soon 
a  mellow  bell-peal  sounded  below.  Claire  sat  and 
wondered  whether  he  who  had  sent  her  the  roses 
would  now  solicit  her  company.  It  even  occurred 


168  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

to  her  that  he  might  have  passed  Sophia  and  Mrs. 
Bergemann  on  the  avenue,  and  hence  have  drawn 
the  conclusion  that  she  would  be  at  home  alone. 

She  was  quite  right  in  this  assumption.  The 
grand  Michael  presently  brought  up  Mr.  Brady's 
card.  Claire  hesitated  for  an  instant,  and  then  said 
that  she  would  see  the  gentleman. 

She  found  Brady  in  the  reception-room.  He  was 
dressed  with  an  almost  gaudy  smartness,  which 
brought  all  his  misfortunes  of  face  and  figure  into 
bolder  relief.  He  wore  a  suit  of  clothes  that  might 
have  been  quiet  as  a  piece  of  tapestry,  but  was 
surely  assertive  in  its  pattern  when  used  for  coat  and 
trousers ;  his  cravat  was  of  scarlet  and  blue  satin, 
and  a  pin  was  thrust  into  it  which  flashed  and  glit 
tered  so  -that  you  could  not  at  first  perceive  it  to  be 
a  cock's  head  wrought  of  diamonds,  with  a  little  car- 
canet  of  rubies  for  the  red  comb.  He  had  a  number 
of  brilliant  rings  on  his  big-knuckled  hands,  and  the 
sleeve-buttons  that  secured  his  low,  full  wristbands 
were  a  blaze  of  close-bedded  gems  at  every  chance  re 
cession  of  his  sleeve.  As  he  greeted  Claire  it  struck 
her  that  his  expression  was  unwontedly  sulky,  even 
for  him.  He  appeared  like  a  person  who  had  been 
put  darkly  out  of  humor  by  some  aggravating  event. 

"  How  are  you,  Miss  Twining?"  he  said,  holding 
Claire's  hand  till  she  herself  withdrew  it.  "  I  hope 
you  're  well.  I  hope  you  're  as  well  as  they  make 
'em." 

Claire  sat  down  while  she  answered :  "  I  am  very 
well,  Mr.  Brady."  Her  visitor  at  once  seated  him 
self  beside  her,  leaning  his  face  toward  her  own.  *'  I 
am  sorry  that  both  Mrs.  Bergemann  and  Sophia  are 
out,"  she  went  on.  with  the  desire  to  bridge  an  awk 
ward  interspace  of  silence. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  169 

"Oh,  I  ain't,  not  a  bit,"  said  Brady,  ardently  con 
tradictory.  "  I  'm  glad  of  it,  Miss  Twining.  I 
wanted  to  have  a  little  chin  with  you."  He  laughed 
at  his  own  slang,  crossed  his  long  legs,  and  leaned 
back  on  the  lounge  which  Claire  was  also  occupying. 
At  the  same  time  he  turned  his  face  toward  his  com 
panion. 

Claire  felt  that  decency  now  compelled  her  to  offer 
a  certain  acknowledgment.  "  I  want  to  thank  you 
for  those  lovely  flowers,"  she  said.  "  They  were 
beautiful,  and  it  was  very  kind  of  you  to  send  them." 

He  began  to  sway  his  head  slightly  from  side  to 
side.  It  was  his  way  of  showing  nearly  every  emo 
tion,  whether  embarrassment,  perplexity,  chagrin,  or 
even  mollification. 

"  Come,  now,"  he  began,  "  you  did  n't  really  think 
a  lot  about  'em,  did  you  ?  " 

"  I  liked  them  very  much,"  returned  Claire.  She 
was  watching  him,  in  all  his  unpleasant  details, 
though  very  covertly.  She  was  asking  herself,  in 
the  dispassionate  reflectiveness  born  of  her  calculat 
ing  yet  feverish  ambition,  whether  she  could  possibly 
consent  to  be  his  wife  if  he  should  ever  ask  her.  The 
remembrance  of  his  great  prospective  wealth  dealt 
her  more  than  one  thrilling  stroke,  and  yet  feelings 
of  self-distrustful  dread  visited  her  also.  She  feared 
lest  she  might  commit  some  irreparable  mistake.  She 
was  still  very  ignorant  of  the  world  in  which  she 
desired  to  achieve  note  and  place.  But  she  had,  at 
the  same  time,  a  tolerably  definite  understanding  of 
some  things  that  she  aimed  to  do.  Her  talks  with 
Thurston  had  let  in  a  good  deal  of  light  upon  her 
mind.  She  had  not  lost  a  single  point  in  all  his  ex 
planatory  discourse. 


170  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"I  'm  glad  you  did  like  'em,"  said  Brady,  examin 
ing  his  radiant  rings  for  an  instant.  "They  cost  a 
heap  of  stamps,"  he  added,  suddenly  lifting  his  head 
and  giving  her  an  intent  look.  "But  I  don't  mind 
that.  I  ain't  a  close-fisted  chap,  especially  when  I  'in 
fond  of  anybo'dy.  I  guess  you  've  seen  that  I  think 
a  deal  about  you.  I  can't  talk  flowery,  like  some 
chaps,  but  that  don't  matter."  ...  At  this  point  he 
suddenly  took  Claire's  hand ;  his  face  had  acquired 
a  still  more  sulky  gloom ;  it  was  clouded  by  an  actual 
scowl.  "  Look  here,  now,  Miss  Twining,"  he  said, 
"  I  never  expected  to  get  married.  I  Ve  had  some 
pretty  nice  girls  make  regular  dead  sets  at  me  —  yes, 
I  have — but  none  of  'em  ever  took  my  fancy.  You 
did,  though.  I  stuck  it  out  for  two  or  three  weeks, 
and  I  daresay  I  kept  giving  myself  clean  away  all 
the  time.  But  I  saw  't  was  n't  any  use  ;  I  'm  caught, 
sure ;  there  ain't  any  mistake  about  it.  We  '11  be 
married  whenever  you  say.  I  '11  do  the  handsome 
thing  —  that  is,  Father  will.  Father's  crazy  to  have 
me  settle  down.  He's  worth  a  lot  o'  money  —  I 
s'pose  you  know  that.  He  '11  like  you  when  he  sees 
you  — I  ain't  afraid  he  won't.  We  can  have  a  slam- 
bang  stylish  wedding,  or  a  plain,  quiet  one,  just  MS 
you  choose.  And  don't  you  be  alarmed  about  too 
big  a  difference  between  you  and  I.  Father  may 
kick  a  little  at  first,  but  he  '11  come  round  when 
you  Ve  met  once  or  twice.  He  '11  see  you  're  a  good, 
sound  girl,  even  if  you  ain't  as  high  up, .quite,  as 
he  'd  want  me  to  go  for.  There,  now,  I  've  broken 
the  ice,  and  I  s'pose  it 's  all  fixed,  ain't  it  ?  " 

Claire  had  been  trying  to  withdraw  her  hand,  for 
several  moments,  from  the  very  firm  grasp  of  this  re 
markable  suitor.  But  as  Brady  ended,  she  literally 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.       •  171 

snatched  the  hand  away,  and  rose,  facing  him,  con 
temptuous,  and  yet  calm  because  her  contempt  was 
so  deep. 

"  It  is  impertinent  for  you  to  address  me  like  this," 
she  said,  in  haughty  undertone.  "  You  have  no  right 
to  take  for  granted  that  I  will  marry  you.  In  the 
first  place,  I  do  not  like  you  ;  in  the  second  place,  I 
think  myself  by  no  means  your  inferior,  but  greatly 
above  you  as  regards  breeding,  education,  and  intel 
ligence  ;  and  in  the  third  place,  I  would  never  consent 
to  be  the  wife  of  one  whom  I  do  not  consider  a  gen 
tleman." 

She  at  once  left  the  room,  after  thus  speaking,  and 
saw,  as  she  did  so,  that  Brady's  face  was  pale  with 
rage  and  consternation.  His  insolent  patronage  had 
wounded  her  more  than  she  knew.  On  reaching  her 
own  room,  she  had  a  fit  of  indignant  weeping.  But 
by  the  time  that  Sophia  and  Mrs.  Bergemann  re 
turned  from  their  drive,  she  was  sufficiently  tranquil 
to  betray  no  sign  of  past  perturbation. 

That  evening  Sophia  went  to  one  of  her  "soci 
ables."  A  male  friend  called  for  her,  and  they  were 
driven  together  to  the  entertainment  in  question,  with 
superb  yet  innocent  defiance  of  those  stricter  proprie 
ties  advocated  in  higher  social  realms.  Mrs.  Berge 
mann  retired  somewhat  early,  and  Claire  was  left 
alone,  as  it  happened,  with  Thurston,  who  chanced 
to  drop  in  a  little  after  nine  o'clock.  Just  before 
Mrs.  Bergemann  left  the  drawing-room,  she  contrived 
to  whisper,  in  garrulous  aside,  with  her  plump  face 
quite  close  to  Claire's,  and  all  her  genial,  harmless 
vulgarity  at  a  sort  of  momentary  boiling-point :  "  I 
should  n't  be  surprised,  dear,  if  he  should  pop  to 
night.  And  if  he  does,  I  ain't  sure  that  you  had  n't 


172  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

better  have  him  than  Brady,  for  he 's  ever  so  rich, 
though  the  other  '11  get  that  Sixth  Avenu  store  and 
two  or  three  millions  o'  money  behind  it.  Still, 
please  yourself,  Claire,  and  don't  forget  to  leave  the 
hall  gas  burnin'  for  Sophia  when  you  go  upstairs." 

Claire  was  in  a  very  interrogative  mood  to-night. 
"I  should  like  to  have  Mr.  Brady  explained  a  little 
more  fully,"  she  said,  when  Thurston  and  herself 
were  again  seated  side  by  side. 

Her  companion  gave  a  soft  laugh.  "  I  thought 
that  we  had  exhausted  that  subject,'"  he  said.  "  It 's 
not  a  very  rich  one,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  me  anything  about  his 
character  as  a  man,"  Claire  quickly  replied.  "  But 
I  want  to  find  out  his  standing  in  society?' 

"  He  has  no  standing  in  society,"  said  Thurston, 
with  instant  decisiveness. 

"  Do  the  people  of  whom  you  have  spoken  repeat 
edly  —  those  whom  you  term  the  best  class,  I  mean 
—  entirely  refuse  to  know  him  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  They  have  never  been  called  upon 
to  know  or  not  to  know  him.  The  best  class  is  in  a 
different  world  altogether.  Perhaps  Brady  is  aware 
of  their  existence ;  he  may  have  read  of  their  enter 
tainments  in  the  newspapers,  or  he  may  have  seen 
them  occasionally  at  watering-places.  But  that  is 
all.  His  self-importance  prevents  him  from  realizing 
that  they  are  above  him.  He  is  essentially  and  ut 
terly  common.  He  is  surrounded  by  a  little  horde 
of  sycophants  who  worship  him  for  his  money,  and 
who  are,  in  nearly  all  respects,  as  common  as  him 
self." 

"  You  mean  the  set  of  people  with  whom  Sophia 
associates  1 " 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  173 

"  Yes.  I  mean  the  rich,  vulgar  set  of  which  you 
have  so  frequently  seen  specimens  in  this  very  room." 

Claire  seemed  to  muse  for  a  short  while.  "  But 
the  others?"  she  soon  asked.  "  Those  people  who 
hold  themselves  above  the  Bergemanns —  are  they 
all  refined  and  cultured?  That  is,  are  there  any 
Bradys  among  them  ?  Are  there  any  Mrs.  Berge 
manns  or  Sophias  ?  " 

"  I  should  emphatically  say  not.  One  may  meet 
people  among  them  who  are  by  no  means  models  of 
propriety  or  of  high  -  breeding,  bu£  only  as  excep 
tional  cases.  They  are  generally  found  to  be  ladies 
and  gentlemen ;  I  don't  know  two  more  comprehen 
sive  words  than  those  for  just  what  I  desire  to  ex 
press.  Of  course  I  have  no  large  moral  meaning, 
now.  I  would  merely  imply  that  in  outward  actions, 
at  least,  they  preserve  the  niceties.  Their  occasional 
deeds  of  darkness  may  be  as  solidly  bad  as  anything 
of  the  kind  elsewhere.  I  should  be  very  loth  to 
describe  them  as  saintly.  But  they  are  usually  pol 
ished.  Quite  often  they  are  rank  snobs.  Still  of- 
tener  they  are  stupid.  Their  virtues  might  best  be 
explained  negatively,  perhaps.  They  don't  shock 
you  ;  they  are  not  crude  ;  they  have  n't  forgotten  that 
a  verb  agrees  with  its  nominative  in  number  and  per 
son  ;  they  don't  overdress  themselves ;  they  very 
rarely  shout  instead  of  talking,  and  .  .  .  well,  for  a 
final  negative,  they  never  tell  the  truth  when  its 
utterance  might  wound  or  annoy." 

Claire  had  seemed  to  be  listening  very  earnestly. 
She  did  not  respond  with  her  usual  promptness. 
Her  tones  were  slow  and  thoughtful  when  she  at 
length  said  :  "  And  they  are  what  you  would  call 
an  aristocracy  ?  " 


174  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  I  don't  know  why  they  are  not.  They  are  inces 
santly  being  compared,  to  their  own  disadvantage, 
with  the  aristocracies  of  foreign  lands.  But  I  have 
traveled  considerably,  in  my  time,  and  on  the  whole 
I  prefer  them  to  all  similar  bodies.  There  is  less 
sham  about  them,  and  quite  as  much  reason  for 
existence.  They  point  a  very  sad  moral,  perhaps ; 
they  illustrate  what  certain  austere  critics  like  to  call 
the  failure  of  republican  ideas.  But  I  've  had  so 
many  good  friends  among  them  that  I  can't  consider 
any  institution  a  failure  which  is  responsible  for  their 
development." 

"  And  it  is  very  hard  to  become  one  of  their  num 
ber,"  Claire  said,  after  another  little  pause.  She  did 
not  put  the  words  as  a  question. 

"  You  seem  to  think  it  hard,"  Thurston  answered. 
Rare  as  was  any  impulsive  order  of  speech  with  him, 
this  slight  yet  meaning  sentence  had  nevertheless 
found  utterance,  almost  against  his  will. 

It  was  his  first  reference  to  the  episode  which  both 
vividly  remembered,  though  in  far  different  ways,  and 
which  had  cast  round  their  subsequent  intercourse, 
even  when  directed  upon  the  most  mundane  topics,  a 
delicate  glamour  of  sentiment  plainly  perceptible  to 
each.  Claire  dropped  her  eyes,  for  a  moment,  then 
suddenly  lifted  them,  while  the  pink  was  yet  deepen 
ing  in  her  cheeks. 

"  Let  us  suppose  that  I  am  not  speaking  of  my 
self,"  she  said.  "  Indeed,"  she  went  on,  with  a  soft, 
peculiar  smile  that  had  hardly  lighted  her  lips  be 
fore  it  fled,  "  you  have  told  me  that  my  gate  into 
the  kingdom  of  the  elect  is  through  —  well,  through 
matrimony."  She  now  looked  at  her  companion 
with  so  subtle  a  blending  of  the  arch  and  the  grave 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  175 

that  Thurston,  in  all  the  solidity  of  his  veteran 
experience,  was  baffled  how  to  explain  it.  "  Sup 
pose,"  she  suddenly  announced  to  him,  "  that  I 
should  marry  Mr.  Brady.  HQ  is  your  abhorrence,  I 
know.  But  if  he  put  his  millions  at  my  disposal, 
could  I  become  the  great  lady  you  and  I  have  talked 
about?"  . 

Thurston  was  stroking  his  mustache,  and  he  now 
seemed  to  speak  under  it,  a  trifle  gruffly,  as  he  an 
swered  her. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  think  you  could  —  provided 
Brady  quitted  the  world  after  marrying  you." 

Claire  gave  a  little  rippling  laugh.  "  They  would 
never  allow  him  to  be  one  of  them  ?  "  she  asked,  in 
tones  whose  precise  import  her  hearer  still  failed  to 
define,  and  which  impressed  him  as  midway  between 
raillery  and  seriousness. 

"  No,  never.  If  he  has  proposed  to  you,  my  poor 
child,  don't  for  an  instant  flatter  yourself  that  you 
could  use  him  as  a  ladder  by  which  to  climb  up  into 
your  coveted  distinction." 

These  words  were  spoken  with  a  commiserating 
ridicule.  Tried  a  man  of  the  world  as  he  was, 
Thurston  had  of  late  been  so  deeply  wounded  that 
he  now  felt  his  wound  bleed  afresh,  at  an  instant's 
notice,  and  deal  him  a  severe  pang  as  well.  But 
Claire,  quite  forgetting  to  make  allowances,  flushed 
hotly,  and  at  once  said  :  — 

"  I  never  told  you  that  Mr.  Brady  had  proposed  to 
me.  And  I  do  not  think  it  proper  or  civil  for  you 
to  throw  in  my  face  what  I  have  put  to  you  in  the 
shape  of  a  confidence." 

"  Marry  Brady.  By  all  means  marry  him,"  said 
Thurston.  He  had  not  been  so  bitterly  affronted  iu 
years. 


176  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Claire  felt  conscience-stricken  by  the  recollection 
of  her  own  thoughts  just  previous  to  Brady's  offer. 
She  had  permitted  herself  to  weigh  the  question  of 
whether  or  not  marriage  with  such  a  man  might  be 
possible.  Then  had  come  the  sharp  sense  that  it 
would  be  degrading.  For  this  reason  she  was  now 
humiliated  beyond  measure,  and  hence  keenly  an 
gry- 

"I  shall  not  marry  him,"  she  said,  her  lip  faintly 

quivering.  "  Why  do  you  speak  to  me  like  this  ?  " 
Tears  of  shame  now  gathered  to  her  eyes,  and  her 
voice  notably  faltered.  She  found  no  more  words 
to  utter.  She  felt  that  she  was  in  a  false,  miserable 
position.  She  felt  that  she  deserved  Thurston's  con 
tempt,  too,  since  she  had  given  him,  stupidly  and 
rashly,  a  hint  of  what  had  passed  between  herself 
and  the  man  whom  they  both  despised. 

Thurston  rose  and  placidly  faced  her.  He  was  so 
angry  that  he  had  just  enough  control  left  to  pre 
serve  tranquillity. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  have  said  anything  very  hard 
to  you,"  he  began. 

"Yes,  you  have,"  retorted  Claire,  her  voice  in 
wretched  case.  She  knotted  both  hands  together 
while  she  spoke.  She  was  still  seated. 

Thurston  went  on  as  if  there  had  been  no  inter 
ruption.  "  But  if  I  tell  you  the  plain  truth,  I  don't 
doubt  you  will  think  me  hard.  I  will  tell  it  because 
you  need  it.  You  are  still  a  mere  girl,  and  very 
foolish.  I  am  profoundly  sorry  for  you.  You  have 
no  possible  regard  for  that  frightful  young  million 
aire,  and  yet  you  have  permitted  yourself  to  think 
of  marrying  him.  Such  a  marriage  would  be  mad 
ness.  '  You  would  not  accept  me  because  you  thought 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  177 

me  old,  but  it  would  be  better  if  you  married  a  decent 
man  of  ninety  than  a  gross  cad  and  ruffian  of  twenty- 
three.  But  whether  you  do  sell  yourself  in  this 
horrid  way  or  no,  it  is  a  plain  fact  that  you  are  in 
danger  of  committing  some  terrible  folly.  I  see  by 
your  face  that  you  do  not  mean  to  heed  my  words. 
But  perhaps  if  you  listen  td  them  now,  you  will  re 
call  them  and  heed  them  hereafter." 

"  No,"  cried  Claire,  tingling  with  mortification, 
and  seizing  on  satire  as  a  last  defensive  resort  against 
this  deserved  rebuke,  whose  very  justice  revealed  her 
own  culpability  in  a  clearer  light ;  "  no,  if  you  please, 
I  won't  listen!  I  shall  ask,  instead,  that  you  will 
kindly  grant  me  the  liberty  of  purchasing  my  own 
sackcloth  and  of  collecting  my  own  ashes." 

She  half  turned  away  from  him,  with  glowing  face, 
as  she  spoke  ;  it  was  her  intent  to  beat  a  prompt  re 
treat  ;  but  Thurston's  firm,  even  tones  detained  her. 

"I  warn  you  against  yourself,"  he  went  on.  His 
anger  had  cooled  now,  and  melancholy  had  replaced 
it.  "  You  have  some  fine  traits,  but  there  is  an  actual 
curse  hanging  over  you,  and  as  a  curse  it  will  surely 
fall,  unless  by  the  act  of  your  own  will  you  change  it 
into  a  blessing.  It  is  more  than  half  the  consequence 
of  your  land  and  your  time,  but  it  is  due  in  part, 
also,  to  your  special  nature.  In  other  countries  the 
women  whom  fate  has  placed  as  it  has  placed  you, 
are  never  stung  by  ambition  like  yours.  They  are 
born  bourgeoises,  and  such  they  are  contented  to  re 
main.  If  they  possess  any  ambition,  it  is  to  adorn 
the  sphere  in  which  their  destinies  have  set  them,  and 
this  alone.  They  long  for  no  new  worlds  to  conquer ; 
their  small  world  is  enough,  but  it  is  not  too  small  to 
hold  a  large  store  of  honest  pride.  All  over  Europe 
12 


178  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

one  finds  it  thus.  But  in  America  the  affair  is  quite 
different.  Here,  both  women  and  men  have  what  is 
called  '  push.'  Not  seldom  it  is  a  really  noble  dis 
content  ;  I  am  not  finding  fault  with  it  in  all  cases. 
But  in  yours,  Claire  Twining,  I  maintain  that  it  will 
turn  out  a  dowry  of  bitter  risk  if  not  v^oful  disaster. 
I  exhort  you  to  be  careful,  to  be  very  careful,  lest 
it  prove  the  latter.  Don't  let  your  American  '  push ' 
impel  you  into  swamps  and  quicksands.  Don't  let  it 
thrust  you  away  from  what  is  true  and  sterling  in 
yourself.  Be  loyal  to  it  as  a  good  impulse,  and  it 
will  not  betray  and  confound  you  like  a  bad  one. 
You  can  do  something  so  much  better  than  to  wreck 
your  life ;  you  can  make  it  a  force,  a  guidance,  a 
standard,  a  leadership.  You  can  keep  conscience  and 
self-respect  clean,  and  yet  shine  with  a  far  surer  and 
more  lasting  brilliancy  on  this  account.  .  .  .  Think 
of  my  counsel ;  I  shall  not  besiege  you  with  any  more  ; 
no  doubt  I  have  given  you  too  much,  and  with  too 
slight  a  warrant,  already.  .  .  .  Good-by.  If  I  should 
never  see  you  again,  I  shall  always  hope  for  you 
until  I  hear  ill  news  of  you.  And  if  bright  news 
reaches  me,  I  shall  be  vain  enough  to  tell  myself  that 
we  have  not  met,  talked,  argued  —  aven  quarreled, 
perhaps  —  without  the  gain  on  your  own  side  of 
happy  and  valued  results."  .  .  . 

Thurston  passed  from  the  room,  swiftly,  and  yet 
not  seeming  to  use  the  least  haste,  before  Claire, 
strongly  impressed  and  with  her  wrath  at  a  vanish 
ing  point,  could  collect  herself  for  the  effort  of  any 
coherent  sort  of  reply. 

She  had  caught  one  very  clear  glimpse  of  his  face 
just  as  he  disappeared.  His  hazel  eyes,  troubled,  yet 
quiet,  bad  momentarily  dwelt  with  great  fixity  ou 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  179 

her  own.  As  she  afterward  recalled  this  parting 
vision  of  a  face  grown  so  familiar  through  recent 
weeks,  it  appeared  to  her  solely  in  imaginative  terms. 
It  ceased  to  be  a  face  ;  it  became  a  reproach,  a  re 
monstrance,  an  advice,  an  entreaty. 

Immediately  after  his  exit  she  sank  into  a  chair, 
feeling  his  late  words  ring  through  mind  and  heart. 
She  had  never  liked  him  so  much  as  at  that  moment. 

She  had  a  sense  that  he  meant  to  avoid  seeing  her 
again.  But  she  did  not  realize  through  how  much 
vivid  novelty  of  experience  she  must  pass  before  they 
once  more  met.  If  any  such  prescience  had  reached 
her,  she  would  have  gone  out  into  the  hall  and 
plucked  him  by  the  sleeve,  begging  him  to  return, 
filled  with  conciliatory  designs,  eager  that  he  should 
abandon  all  thought  of  permanent  farewell. 

But  as  it  was,  she  let  the  hall-door  close  behind 
him,  and  sat  staring  at  the  floor  and  saying  within 
her  own  thoughts  :  "  He  is  right.  I  am  in  danger. 
I  can  save  myself  if  I  choose.  And  I  will  save  my 
self  in  time ! " 

She  clenched  both  hands  as  they  drooped  at  either 
side,  and  her  eyes  flashed  softly  below  their  shading 
lids. 


XL 

» 

SHE  was  wholly  unprepared  for  the  intelligence, 
a  few  -days  later,  that  Thurston  had  gone,  in  the 
most  sudden  manner,  to  Europe.  The  Bergemanns, 
mother  and  daughter,  were  both  amazed  by  the  de 
parture  of  their  legal  adviser,  without  a  premonitory 
word  from  him  on  the  subject  and  apparently  at 
such  brief  notice.  Claire,  in  the  midst  of  her  own 
consternation,  sharply  dreaded  lest  some  suspicion 
should  dawn  upon  them  that  she  was  concerned  in 
this  precipitate  change.  But  if  Mrs.  Bergemann  let 
fall  any  hint  that  such  was  her  belief,  it  was  made 
in  the  hearing  of  Sophia  alone  ;  and  the  latter  had 
scouted  from  the  first,  as  we  know,  all  idea  that 
Thurston's  regard  for  her  friend  could  partake  of 
lover-like  tenderness.  The  letter  which  he  had 
written  to  his  client,  announcing  that  he  had  sailed, 
gave  no  reason  for  this  abrupt  course.  It  was  a  let 
ter  somewhat  copious  in  other  respects,  however,  and 
made  thoroughly  plain  the  fact  that  the  partner  of 
him  who  wrote  it  would  in  every  way  defend  and 
supervise  the  interests  of  Mrs.  Bergemann.  "  I  shall 
probably  be  abroad  a  number  of  months,"  ran  Thurs- 
ton's  written  words,  "  but  during  that  time  rest  sure 
that  all  details  of  the  slightest  importance  with  re 
spect  to  your  affairs  shall  be  safely  communicated 
through  Mr.  Chad  wick." 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  181 

Mr.  Chadwick  soon  afterward  presented  himself. 
He  was  a  lank  man,  of  bloodless  complexion  and  ir 
reproachable  manners.  "  I  think  he  's  a  reg'lar  wet 
blanket,"  said  Mrs.  Bergemann,  with  critical  cruelty, 
"  after  dear,  high-toned  Mr.  Thurston.  He  was  high- 
toned,  Claire,  was  n't  he,  now  ? "  she  persevered, 
with  a  sidelong,  timorous  look  toward  Sophia,  who 
chanced,  besides  Claire,  to  be  present  at  the  time. 

"  Now,  Ma  !  "  broke  in  Sophia,  accompanying  this 
vocative  with  a  tart  gesture  of  remonstrance,  "  Claire 
does  n't  know  a  bit  better  than  you  or  I  do  whether 
he  was  high-toned  or  not.  Do  you,  Claire  ?  " 

"  I  think  almost  everybody  who  ever  met  him," 
said  Claire,  answering  the  appeal,  "must  have  seen 
it  very  clearly." 

She  spoke  this  with  nice  composure.  But  she  was 
inwardly  dismayed,  wounded,  almost  tortured.  For 
many  succeeding  days  she  contrived  to  absent  herself 
from  all  Sophia's  guests.  Brady  had  totally  disap 
peared  from  her  experience  ;  he  no  longer  presented 
himself  at  the  house.  He  ,was  secretly  fearful  lest 
Claire  might  publish  the  fact  of  his  proposal  broad 
cast  among  the  adherents  with  whom  he  stood  su 
preme  as  their  moneyed  and  autocratic  leader.  He 
suffered  those  torments  of  humiliation  which  only  a 
small  soul,  with  small  views  of  tilings  and  an  im 
moderate  vanity,  has  learned  the  petty  trick  of  suf 
fering.  It  is  by  no  means  hyperbole  to  state  that 
he  inwardly  cursed  Claire  for  being  the  girl  within 
whose  power  he  had  put  it  to  say  that  she  had 
actually  repelled  his  superb  matrimonial  advances. 
Longer  concern  with  so  unwholesome  a  creature 
would  be  idle  for  the  chronicler,  especially  since 
henceforth  he  drops  out  of  our  record  somewhat  as 


182  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Slocumb  did,  and  with  a  scarcely  more  .chivalrous 
exit. 

Claire  now  passed  through  a  period  of  extreme  re 
pentance.  Her  old  longings  had  vanished  ;  she  si 
lently  planned  for  herself,  with  ascetic  enthusiasm, 
a  future  of  humility  and  obscurity.  She  was  a  zealot 
in  a  totally  new  way  ;  she  had  abandoned  all  thought 
of  marrying,  and  had  conceived  the  idea  of  mentally 
fitting  herself  to  become  a  governess.  With  this  end, 
she  spent  hours  in  the  library.  Incapable  of  doing 
anything  by  halves,  she  now  bent  the  full  force  of 
her  strong  will  and  capable  intellect  toward  obtain 
ing  a  proper  educational  competence.  She  swam  far 
out,  so  to  speak,  into  the  blue  waters  of  knowledge, 
and  breasted  them  with  good,  vigorous  strokes.  She 
was,  for  the  time  at  least,  passionately  in  earnest. 
Thurston's  farewell  words  rang  incessantly  through 
her  memory.  She  would  crush  down  all  that  Amer 
ican  "  push,"  once  and  forever.  She  would  steer 
from  the  perils  against  which  he  had  warned  her,  by 
one  broad,  divergent  swerve.  Her  remorse  and  her 
resignation  held  a  poetic  ardor  of  kinship.  Her  past 
longings  had  indeed  been  a  folly,  and  as  such  she 
•would  unvaryingly  treat  them.  She  would  be  con 
sistent  henceforward,  and  seek  only  what  lay  within 
her  lawful  scope  of  action.  She  was  like  the  convert 
to  a  new  faith,  and  she  had  all  a  convert's  intensity 
of  fervor. 

From  her  two  friends,  however,  she  chose  to  guard 
with  caution  the  secret  of  this  change.  It  was  now 
the  early  portion  of  June,  and  the  fierce  heat  of  sum 
mer  had  literally  leapt  down  on  the  city  after  several 
weeks  of  raw,  inclement  May  weather.  The  judg 
ment  long  ago  passed  upon  our  climate,  that  it  has 


4 AT  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  183 

a  summer,  an  autumn,  a  winter,  but  no  spring,  had 
never  been  more  fully  confirmed.  The  city  was 
wrapt  all  day  in  a  torrid  drowse ;  the  pavements  lay 
either  in  bleak  glare  or  breathless  shadow.  On  the 
benches  of  the  parks,  where  spots  of  dusk  were 
wrought  by  overbrowing  branches,  groups  of  jaded 
citizens  huddled  together  in  moist  discomfort.  The 
cars  tinkled  sleepily  ;  the  omnibuses  lagged  in  rum 
bling  sloth ;  foul  smells  beset  the  nostrils,  even  from 
genteel  gutters  or  the  door-ways  of  high-priced  res 
taurants.  People  looked  up  at  the  wool-like  pallor 
of  the  sky,  and  wished  that  it  would  darken  into  the 
cooling  gloom  of  a  thunderstorm. 

But  Claire  scarcely  minded  the  heat.  She  had 
known  the  fetid  miseries  of  a  Greenpoint  summer. 
Those  spacious  chambers  and  halls  of  the  Berge- 
manns'  solid-built  mansion  were  delicious  indeed  by 
contrast.  Striped  awnings  had  been  affixed  to  each 
window,  whose  scalloped  edges  would  flap  in  chance 
waftures  of  breeze,  while  the  stout  bunting  above 
them  changed  the  sunny  rigors  outside  to  a  continual 
soothing  gloom.  It  was  true  that  she  had  no  sym 
pathy  with  hot  weather;  she  liked  an  atmosphere  in 
which  quick  movement  was  pleasantly  possible.  But 
she  was  nevertheless  very  much  at  her  ease  here  and 
now.  She  road  ;  she  studied ;  the  library,  bathed  in 
a  tender  dimness,  pleased  her  with  its  vague  rows  of 
books,  its  rough  rich  carpeting,  its  dark  massive 
wood-work.  She  had,  for  a  time,  that  exquisite 
feeling  of  the  scholar  who  clothes  himself  with  si 
lence,  solitude,  and  repose,  and  who  lets  the  outer 
world  touch  him  through  soft,  impersonal  yet  cogent 
mediums.  During  this  interval  she  was  completely 
happy.  It  was  the  old  self-surrender  of  the  devote. 


184  AN"  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

Literature  was  henceforth  to  be  her  cult,  her  idolatry. 
The  mere  process  of  reading  had  always  been  one  of 
ease  and  speed  with  her.  Past  training  helped  her 
now  in  the  way  of  method  and  system.  She  had 
learned  how  to  learn.  Her  French  readings  were 
frequent.  Sophia  had  a  French  maid  with  whom 
she  often  conversed.  Her  proficiency  in  the  lan 
guage  soon  became  marked  and  thorough. 

But  suddenly  her  new  contentment  was  shattered, 
and  by  a  rude  stroke.  Mrs.  Bergemann  began  to 
talk  of  leaving  town.  Claire  almost  felt,  at  first,  as 
if  the  ground  were  giving  way  beneath  her  feet.  She 
could  only  accompany  her  friends  to  a  watering-place 
in  the  position  of  a  dependent  and  pensioner.  Her 
salary  must  stop,  because  her  relations  with  Sophia 
must  of  necessity  lose  all  their  instructive  character. 
"  You  would  never  continue  our  readings,  Sophia," 
she  said,  "  in  a  crowded  hotel,  where  you  would 
have  countless  distractions." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  would,  Claire,"  was  the'  alert  reply. 
"  We  '11  keep  it  up  just  the  same.  You'll  pack  a  few 
books  in  one  of  the  trunks,  and  I  '11  promise  to  be  a 
good  girl ;  you  need  n't  feel  a  bit  afraid.  Ma  's  de 
cided  on  Coney  Island.  Now,  don't  look  so  glum,  as 
if  you  did  n't  have  a  friend  in  all  the  world.  You  've 
been  sort  of  queer,  lately  ;  you  talk  slowei*,  some 
how,  and  you  stick  up  there  in  the  library  nearly 
all  the  time.  But  you  're  still  my  own  nice  Claire. 
I  swear  by  you,  dear  girl,  just  as  I  always  did.  If 
there  's  anything  on  your  mind  I  won't  ask  you  what 
it  is." 

"There  is  something  on  my  mind,  Sophia,"  Claire 
said.  "  But  you  must  not  ask  me  what  it  is,  just  yet. 
I  will  tell  you  soon.  Yes,  I  hope  to  tell  you  quite 
soon." 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  185 

She  went  with  them  to  Coney  Island.  They  en 
gaged  rooms  at  the  Manhattan  Beach  Hotel.  The 
books  had  been  packed  and  brought,  but  very  few  of 
them  were  ever  opened. 

"  It 's  not  a  bit  of  use,  Claire !  "  Sophia  affirmed, 
after  the  lapse  of  about  five  days.  "  We  can't  man 
age  it.  There  's  always  something  happening,  as  you 
see.  Besides,  nobody  works  here.  Everybody  idles. 
It 's  in  the  air.  Let 's  take  a  vacation." 

"  Why,  yes,  girls,"  said  Mrs.  Bergemann,  at  this 
point,  with  motherly  persuasion.  "  You  better  just 
lay  up  some  health  for  next  winter,  and  quit  the 
books  till  we  get  home.  Or  p'raps  we  may  get  tired 
of  this  place  'fore  the  summer 's  through,  an'  go 
somewheres  where  it  ain't  so  lively  —  I  mean  some 
lazy  place  like  Lake  George  or  the  White  Mountains. 
Then  books  and  reading  will  fit  in  kinder  natural. 
But  I  don't  think  I'll  care  to  leave  here  for  a  good 
big  while.  I  ain't  ever  seen  anything  like  it  before. 
If  we  could  only  go  driving  here,  now,  and  them 
horses  was  n't  eating  their  heads  off  over  in  the  city, 
why  't  would  be  a  reg'lar  paradise.  Sophia,  I  've  just 
rec'lected  that  I  came  to  this  very  spot  twenty  years 
ago  if  it 's  a  day,  with  poor  Pa  !  We  was  quite  a 
young  couple,  then  .  .  .  that  girl  was  n't  more  'n  a 
baby,  Claire.  We  took  her  along.  Pa  carried  you, 
Sophia.  The  Brewery  was  n't  started  in  them  times, 
an'  .  .  .  well,  I  guess  we  got  along  with  about  five 
hundred  dollars  a  year,  over  at  the  small  saloon  at 
Hoboken." 

"Now,  Ma,  you  needn't  go  into  such  very  close 
particulars,  please !  "  eluded  Sophia,  whose  large, 
warm  heart  was  not  democratic  enough  always  to 
stand  the  intense  humility  of  certain  maternal  remi 
niscences. 


186  Aft  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  Pshaw !  "  said  Mrs.  Bergemann,  with  a  good- 
humored  laugh ;  "  we  don't  mind  Claire.  She  's  one 
of  us.  Besides,  we  're  up  here  in  the  bedroom,  not 
down  on  that  crowded  piazzer.  Well,  girls,  as  I  was 
saying,  Pa  and  me  came  here  that  day,  an'  I  declare 
to  goodness,  the  place  was  only  a  bare  strip  o'  sand 
with  a  few  little  shanties  here  and  there,  that  they 
called  hotels.  And  just  look  at  it  now !  Three 
monstrous  palaces,  and  all  New  York  streaming  down 
every  decent  afternoon.  It 's  like  enchantment.  I 
can't  believe  I  'm  where  I  was  twenty  years  ago. 
I  'm  afraid  I  must  be  dreaming.  But  if  I  am,  I  don't 
want  to  wake  up ;  I  want  to  keep  right  on  till  the 
first  o'  September." 

"  Only  a  few  years  ago  the  island  was  very  much 
the  same  as  you  describe  it  twenty  years  ago,"  said 
Claire,  who  had  dipped  into  a  small  descriptive  hand 
book  telling  about  the  marvelous  growth  of  this 
unique  and  phenomenal  watering-place. 

" I  s'pose  I  ought  to  find  it  a  little  bit  too  gay" 
pursued  Mrs.  Bergemann,  presently,  in  reflective  af 
terthought.  "  Poor  Pa 's  been  gone  such  a  short 
time."  Here  the  lady  heaved  an  imposing  sigh 
which  her  massive  bust  made  no  less  visible  than 
audible.  "  But  I  can  grieve  just  as  well  by  mixing 
in  with  folks  as  if  I  was  hung  round  with  crape  an' 
stuck  off  alone  somewheres.  Everybody  's  got  their 
own  ways  o'  grieving,  an'  I  ain't  goin'  to  forget 
poor  Pa  merely  'cause  I  look  about  a  little  and  make 
my  second-mourning  kinder  stylish.  Not  a  bit  of 
it!" 

Mrs.  Bergemann  certainly  showed  the  courage  of 
her  opinions,  as  regarded  the  sort  of  grief  due  her 
departed  spouse.  Her  laugh  was  loud  in  hall,  in 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  187 

dining-room,  or  on  piazza.  Her  costumes  tinkled 
with  black  bugles,  or  rustled  and  crackled  in  sombre 
yet  ornamented  grandeur.  It  is  probable  that  grief 
may  have  dealt  her  real  pangs,  and  yet  that  the  irre 
pressible  glow  and  warmth  of  her  spirits  kept  always 
at  bay  the  gloom  and  chill  of  grief.  Her  nature  was 
not  a  shallow  one ;  she  could  feel  with  depth  and 
force,  but  she  could  not  mope  or  even  muse  ;  solitude 
was  hateful  to  her;  she  was  gregarious;  she  wanted 
to  hear  the  voices  and  look  into  the  faces  of  her  kind. 
In  spite  of  her  German  origin  she  was  excessively 
representative,  from  a  purely  American  stand-point. 
Her  very  vulgarities  —  and  they  were  certainly  pro 
fuse  —  possessed  a  wide,  healthful  sincerity.  Her 
enormous  benevolence  stood  for  her  in  the  place  of 
refinement ;  it  was  indeed  a  certain  code  of  man 
ners  by  itself  ;  she  was  always  so  good  to  you  that 
you  might  pardonably  forget  to  remark  the  uncon- 
ventionalisni  of  her  goodness.  She  was  precisely 
the  sort  of  person  whom  Coney  Island  must  have 
pleased. 

But  it  pleased  Claire  in  a  totally  different  way. 
The  immense  concourse  of  people  who  flocked  thither, 
by  such  easy  modes  of  travel,  from  New  York  and 
Brooklyn  and  elsewhere,  were  an  incessant  source  of 
interest.  Their  numbers,  their  activities,  their  enjoy 
ments,  kept  her  blood  in  a  soft  tingle.  This  brilliant 
and  picturesque  city  by  the  sea  appeared  to  her  in 
the  light  of  a  delicious  reparation.  It  was  a  long, 
splendid  festivity,  compensating  her  for  those  years 
of  dire  dullness  passed  but  a  few  miles  away.  All 
her  recent  resolutions  to  spend  a  life  of  lowly  quie 
tude,  had  melted  into  thin  air.  The  ambition  to 
climb,  to  shine,  and  to  rule  was  once  more  a  dominant 


188  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

force  within  her  being.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  she 
had  flung  away  some  sort  of  irksome  disguise,  and 
now  beheld  it  lie  like  an  ugly  heap  near  at  hand, 
while  wondering,  in  the  exhilaration  of  regained  free 
dom,  how  she  had  ever  chosen  to  shrond  herself  with 
its  clogging  folds. 

She  bathed  every  day  in  the  ocean,  and  acquired  a 
richer  fund  of  health  on  this  account.  Either  with 
Sophia  or  alone,  though  more  often  the  latter,  she 
explored  the  whole  wondrous  little  life-crowded  isl 
and,  in  which  every  grade  of  human  society,  from 
lowest  to  highest,  held  for  her  its  distinct  representa 
tion.  The  two  huge  Iron  Piers,  jutting  out  into  the 
surf  and  assailed  by  continual  salty  breezes,  charmed 
her  with  their  streams  of  coming  and  departing  peo 
ple,  with  their  noonday  lunchers,  with  their  table 
d'hote  diners,  seated  over  cigarettes  or  coffee  in  the 
sweet  marine  dusk.  She  loved  West  Brighton,  with 
its  beer-bibbers,  its  gaudy  booths,  its  preposterous  ex 
hibited  fat  woman,  its  amazing  Irish  giant,  its  games 
of  strength  or  skill,  and  its  whirling  carrousels,  where 
delighted  children  span  round  on  wooden  horses,  cows, 
lions,  or  dragons,  to  the  clamors  of  a  shameless  brass 
band.  But  Brighton  Beach,  Manhattan  Beach,  and 
the  Oriental  each  afforded  a  steadier  satisfaction. 
The  delicate  and  lightsome  architecture  of  these 
three  hotels,  with  their  myriads  of  windows,  their 
clidlet-]\\i?.  patterns  of  roof,  gable,  and  chimney,  and 
their  noble  outlooks  upon  the  sea,  grew  dearer  to 
her  as  the  structures  themselves  became  more  famil 
iar.  She  loved  the  fine  sonorous  music  that  pealed 
forth  from  the  big  deft-built  pavilions,  where  troups 
of  well-trained  minstrels  set  many  a  brazen  instru 
ment  to  their  capable  lips,  and  would  often  find  as- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  189 

sembled  thousands  for  their  listeners,  either  in  the 
long,  salubrious  afternoons,  or  in  the  breezy  starlight 
and  moonlight  of  those  exquisite  seaside  evenings. 
Her  observant  eyes  were  never  weary  0f  watching, 
and  they  forever  found  something  to  watch.  She 
soon  acquired  an  extraordinary  keenness  in  the  mat 
ter  of  "placing"  people  at  sight.  Few  points  of 
manner,  costume,  or  visage  escaped  her.  She  found 
herself  classifying  and  arranging  the  vast  crowds 
that  she  daily  encountered.  She  became  familiar 
with  the  faces  of  many  who  frequently  disembarked 
from  the  loaded  cars.  Nor  was  her  own  face  in  turn 
unnoticed.  Augmented  health  had  freshened  its  ten 
der  tints,  and  lent  to  its  lines  a  choicer  symmetry. 
Many  an  eye  dwelt  upon  her  with  admiration.  Al 
most  instinctively  she  had  learned  the  art  of  dispos 
ing  her  black  garments  to  dainty  advantage,  and  of 
heightening  their  effect  with  little  subdued  touches 
of  maidenly  tastefulness. 

Sophia's  diversions  increased  with  each  fresh  day. 
Many  of  the  male  devotees  wdth  whom  she  had 
romped  during  "  sociables "  of  the  previous  winter, 
sought  her  in  these  new  surroundings.  Claire  was 
compelled  to  acknowledge  former  introductions,  and 
sometimes  to  assume  a  conversational  attitude  with 
the  friends  of  her  friend.  But  they  all  seemed  to 
her  alike  ;  they  all  reminded  her  of  Brady,  though 
in  a  mercifully  moderated  way.  She  was  invariably 
civil  to  them,  though  they  wearied  and  tried  her. 
They  made  her  recall  Thurston,  whose  remembered 
comments  fleeted  through  her  mind,  while  his  grave, 
manly  image  appealed  to  it  in  retrospective  vision. 
She  was  on  the  verge  of  a  novel  and  important  ex 
perience  ;  but,  of  this  unborn  fact  her  longing  for 


190  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

better  companionship  alone  gave  monition,  and  ad 
dressed  her  by  the  imaginative  stimulus  which  we 
sometimes  carelessly  term  presentiment. 

One  evening,  as  she  joined  Mrs.  Bergemann  and 
Sophia  upon  that  portion  of  the  hotel  piazza  which 
was  usually  set  aside  for  its  regular  patrons,  she  found 
the  two  ladies  in  conversation  with  two  gentlemen, 
of  whom  she  knew  only  one,  ranking  him  as  not  by 
any  means  the  most  ill-bred  of  Sophia's  friends.  He 
was  a  young  man  named  Trask,  of  canary-colored 
cycbrov/s  and  a  cloudy  complexion,  who  had  made 
himself  a  favorite  with  both  sexes  of  his  particular 
cot  through  rousing  no  jealousies  by  superior  personal 
and  mental  gifts,  yet  winning  golden  repute  as  one 
whose  complaisant  good  -  will  would  wince  under 
nothing  short  of  positive  imposition.  The  second 
gentleman  was  presented  to  Claire  as  Mr.  Hollister, 
and  her  look  had  scarcely  lit  on  his  face  before  she 
felt  convinced  that  he  was  quite  of  another  world 
from  his  companions.  Even  while  he  was  seated  she 
could  see  that  he  was  tall  and  of  shapely  build.  His 
head  was  small,  and  covered  with  glossy  blond  curls ; 
his  blond  mustache  fringed  a  lip  of  sensitive  cut, 
though  the  smooth  chin  beneath  it  fell  away  a  little, 
leaving  his  large,  frank  blue  eyes,  broad  forehead, 
and  well-formed  nose  to  fail  of  implying  the  strength 
they  would  otherwise  have  easily  told.  He  wore  a 
suit  of  some  thin,  dark  stuff  that  clung  tightly  about 
his  athletic  arms  and  chest,  and  contrasted  with  the 
light  silken  tie  knotted  at  his  wide,  solid  throat. 
Every  detail  of  his  dress  was  what  Claire  soon  de 
cided  to  be  in  the  best  fashion  ;  she  had  already 
learned  a  good  deal  about  the  correct  reigning  mode 
in  men's  dress.  The  extraordinary  nicety  and  corn- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  191 

prehensiveness  of  her  observation  bad  made  this  one 
of  the  sure  results  of  her  present  sojourn. 

She  liked  Mr.  Hollister  at  sight,  and  she  liked  him 
more  after  she  had  heard  him  speak.  His  voice  was 
full  and  rich,  like  the  voice  of  a  man  used  to  the 
shout  that  often  goes  with  the  out-door  game ;  he 
could  not  be  more  than  five-and-twenty,  at  the  most, 
she  decided ;  he  seemed  a  trifle  bashful,  too,  but 
bashful  with  a  virile  grace  that  pleased  her  better, 
in  so  robust  and  engaging  a  person,  than  the  most 
trained  self-possession  could  have  done. 

Sophia  had  always  felt  a  liking  for  the  yellow-eye- 
browed  young  gentleman ;  they  were  the  firmest  of 
friends.  The  coming  of  Claire  appeared  to  relieve 
her  from  the  responsibility  of  "  entertaining "  Mr. 
Hollister,  whom  she  had  never  met  till  this  evening. 
She  soon  drifted  away  arm-in-arm  with  her  preferred 
companion,  among  the  dark  throngs  beyond  the  huge 
bright-lit  piazza.  Mrs.  Bergemann,  perhaps  from  an 
instinctive  perception  of  how  matters  lay  with  Claire, 
presently  rose  and  sought  the  society  of  a  matronly 
friend,  seated  not  many  yards  distant,  whom  she  had 
known  in  anterior  Hoboken  days,  and  who  had 
reached  nearly  as  fat  a  prosperity  as  her  own,  from 
possibly  similar  causes. 

Claire  was  glad  to  be  alone  with  her  new  acquaint 
ance.  He  had  roused  her  curiosity ;  she  wanted  to 
find  out  about  him,  to  account  for  him.  Thus  far 
they  had  said  the  most  impersonal  and  ordinary 
things  to  each  other.  She  remembered  afterward 
that  they  had  used  the  old  meteorological  method 
which  has  so  often  served  as  the  plain,  dull  path  into 
fervent  friendships  or  still  warmer  human  relations ; 
they  had  talked  of  the  weather. 


192  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  I  'm  really  surprised  to  hear  that  it  has  been  so 
very  hot  in  the  city,"  Claire  said,  breaking  the  pause 
that  followed  Mrs.  Bergemann's  departure. 

"  Oh,  it  has  been  dreadful,  I  assure  you,"  said  Mr. 
Hollister.  "-Ninety  in  the  shade  at  four  o'clock." 

"  Why,  we  have  had  a  lovely  breeze  here,  all  day, 
straight  from  the  ocean,"  Claire  resumed,  with  a 
pretty  little  proprietary  wave  of  one  hand  seaward, 
as  though  she  were  commending  the  atmospheric 
virtues  of  her  own  special  domain.  "  Once  or  twice 
I  have  felt  actually  chilly."  He  looked  incredulous 
at  this,  then  broke,  into  a  soft,  bass  laugh  ;  laughter 
was  frequent  with  him,  and  made  his  blue  eyes 
sparkle  whenever  it  came. 

"  I  've  forgotten  how  it  feels  to  be  chilly,"  he  said. 
"  I  wonder  if  I  could  stand  any  chance  of  reviving 
the  sensation  down  on  the  shore  yonder." 

He  spoke  the  words  in  the  manner  of  an  invita 
tion,  and  doubtless  seeing  prompt  acquiescence  in 
Claire's  face,  at  once  leaned  forward  to  ask  "  Will 
you  go?"  Claire  straightway  rose,  answering  "  With 
pleasure."  She  took  his  offered  arm,  and  thought 
while  she  did  so  how  strong  and  firm  it  was,  as  if 
bronze  or  stone  were  beneath  its  flimsy  vestment,  in 
stead  of  muscular  mortality.  The  band  in  the  illumi 
nated  pavilion  near  by  had  lately  paused,  but  it  now 
struck  up  a  waltz  rich  in  long  mellow-pealing  ca 
dences.  "  Is  this  your  first  visit  here?"  said  Claire, 
as  they  descended  the  broad  piazza  steps,  down  to 
ward  the  smooth,  trim  levels  of  grass  and  the  mas 
sive,  rounded  beds  of  geranium,  whose  scarlets  and 
greens  now  looked  v;igue  in  the  starlight.  "  Or  have 
you  been  here  many  times  before,"  she  went  on,  "  dur 
ing  past  seasons,  and  so  lost  all  your  enthusiasm  for 
this  charming  place  'i ;' 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  193 

"  I  've  been  here  about  six  times  in  all,"  he  an 
swered,  "  but  my  enthusiasm  is  still  in  fine  order. 
It's  ready  to  break  forth  at  any  minute.  If  you 
want,  Miss  Twining,  we  can  have  a  combined  erup 
tion  this  evening." 

Claire  thought  this  clever ;  it  had  so  fresh  a  sound 
after  the  blunt  fun  she  had  long  heard  ;  it  made  her 
think  a  little  of  the  way  Beveiiey  Thurston  phrased 
his  ideas,  though  any  resemblance  between  the  two 
men  could  only  exist  for  her  in  the  large  generic 
sense  that  they  were  both  gentlemen.  She  laughed, 
with  a  note  of  real  glee  among  the  liquid  trebles  of 
her  mirth.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  already 
got  to  know  Mr.  Hollister  quite  well.  And  yet  they 
were  still  such  strangers  !  She  had  still  so  much  to 
learn  regarding  him  ! 

"  I  'm  glad  you  've  nothing  to  say  against  this  de 
lightful  island,"  she  declared,  as  if  mildly  jubilant 
over  the  discovery.  "  I  heard  a  man  on  the  sands 
talking  about  it  to  a  friend  only  a  few  mornings  ago. 
He  was  a  shabby  man  who  wanted  shaving,  and  I  'm 
not  sure  that  he  had  on  any  collar.  I  think  he  must 
have  been  a  kind  of  philosopher.  He  said  that 
Coney  Island  was  an  immense  fact.  There  is  just 
my  opinion  —  that  it  is  an  immense  fact."  They 
were  now  but  a  slight  distance  from  the  foamy,  roll 
ing  plash  of  the  dark  sea- waves.  The  music  came 
to  them  in  bursts  of  softer  richness.  With  her  arm 
still  in  that  of  her  companion,  Claire  half  turned  to 
ward  the  hotel,  starred  with  countless  lights,  and 
looking,  as  it  rose  above  the  vague  throngs  beneath 
it,  like  some  palace  of  dreamy  legend,  lit  for  festival. 

"  I  often  think  that  this  mere  strip  of  sand  must 
be  so  surprised,"  she  continued,  "  to  find  itself  grown 

13 


194  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

suddenly  important  and  famous  after  it  lias  lain  here 
lonely,  almost  unnoticed,  for  long  centuries.  I  some 
times  fancy  that  I  can  hear  the  waves  talk  to  it  as 
they  break  on  its  shore,  and  ask  it  what  is  meant 
by  this  wonderful  change." 

"  That 's  a  very  pretty  way  of  looking  at  the  mat 
ter,"  replied  Hollister,  while  he  gazed  down  into  her 
face  from  his  considerably  taller  height  with  a  keener 
expression  of  interest  and  charm  than  he  himself 
guessed.  "  Perhaps  the  waves  congratulate  Coney 
Island  on  its  final  success  in  -life,  and  gently  quote  to 
it  the  old  proverb  about  everything  coming  to  those 
who  know  how  to  wait." 

Claire  started.  "  Do  you  believe  that  ?  "  she  said. 
"  Does  everything  come  to  those  who  know  how  to 
wait?" 

Hollister  laughed  again.  "  You  talk  as  if  you  had 
been  waiting.  But  I  'in  sure  it  can't  have  been  for 
very  long." 

This  last  sentence  was  put  at  least  half  in  the  form 
of  a  question.  But  she  evaded  it,  saying  with  a  light 
little  toss  of  the  head  :  "  Has  n't  evervbodv  always 

•/  «-  \l 

something  to  wait  for,  between  youth  and  old  age?  " 

"  Tell  me  something  about  your  expectations, 
won't  you?  "he  asked,  with  the  non-committal  ten 
derness  of  a  man  whose  acquaintanceship  has  been 
too  brief  for  any  serious  depth  to  accompany  his 
words.  "  You  can't  think  how  much  I  wish  that  I 
was  one  of  them." 

"  One  of  my  expectations  ?     You  ?  " 

"  Decidedly." 

"  But  how  could  I  answer  you  on  that  point  ?  " 
she  returned,  letting  him  catch  in  the  gloom  a 
glimpse  of  her  sly  smile,  "  You  're  only  a  name  to 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  195 

me.  If  you  '11  not  think  my  candor  rude,  I  have  n't 
an  idea  who  you  are." 

"I  don't  believe  I  should  think  you  rude  if  you 
really  were  so,"  he  said,  smiling,  and  yet  seeming  to 
mean  with  much  quiet  force  each  word  that  he 
spoke.  "  So  you  want  me  to  give  an  account  of  my 
self  ?  Well,  I  'in  a  rather  obscure  fellow.  That  is, 
I  don't  believe  I  know  more  than  ten  people  in  New 
York  at  all  well.  I  lead  a  quiet  life  ;  I'm  what  they 
call  a  Wall  Street  man,  but  I  mingle  with  the  big 
throng  there  only  in  a  sort  of  business  way.  I  was 
graduated  at  Dartmouth  two  years  ago,  and  spent  a 
year  in  Europe  afterward.  Then  I  came  back,  and 
began  hard  work.  There  were  reasons  why  I  should 
do  so  —  I  mean  financial  reasons.  I'm  not  a  New 
Yorker  ;  I  was  born  and  reared  in  Providence.  Do 
you  know  Providence  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Claire.     "  I  know  only  New  York." 
She  was  looking  at  him  interestedly  at  short  inter 
vals  ;  they  had  resumed  their  stroll  again  ;  her  arm. 
was  still  within  his ;  he  had  continued  to  please  her, 
thou'j-h  she  felt  no  thrill  of  warm  attraction  toward 

O 

him,  however  mild  in  degree.  She  had  a  sense  of 
friendship,  of  easy  familiarity.  But  apart  from  this, 
she  was  conscious,  as  a  woman  sometimes  not  merely 
will  but  must  be,  that  she  had  won  him  to  like  her  by 
a  very  easy  and  rapid  victory.  Already  she  was  not 
sure  but  that  she  had  won  him  to  like  her  strongly 
as  well.  Her  few  recent  words  of  reply  had  carried 
with  them  a  subtle  persuasion  of  which  Hollister 
himself  was  oddly  and  most  pleasurably  conscious. 
He  yielded  to  their  effect,  and  became  somewhat 
more  free  in  his  personal  confidences. 

"  My  father  had  been  a  Dartmouth  man,"  he  went 


196  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

on.  "  That  was  the  reason  of  my  going  there.  Fa 
ther  and  Mother  have  both  passed  away,  now.  It 's 
a  lovely  old  college,  and  it  gained  me  some  strong 
friendships.  But  I  find  that  all  my  favorite  class 
mates  have  drifted  into  other  cities.  They  some 
times  write  to  me,  even  yet,  after  my  year  in  Europe. 
But,  of  course,  the  old  good  feeling  will  shortly  cease 
...  how  can  it  fail  to  cease  ?  .  .  .  I  'm  a  good  deal 
alone,  just  now.  I  know  a  number  of  men  there  in 
Wall  Street,  but  I  feel  a  little  afraid  of  making 
friends  with  them.  I  don't  just  know  why,  but  I 
do.  Perhaps  it 's  because  of  getting  into  bad  habits. 
Some  of  them,  I  've  noticed  have  very  bad  habits. 
And  I  've  made  up  my  mind  .  .  .  that  is,  I  —  I  half 
promised  my  poor  dear  mother  just  before  she  .  .  . 
Well,  Miss  Twining,  the  plain  truth  is  that  I  keep 
regular  hours  and  live  straight,  as  they  say.  I  like 
to  take  a  sail  down  here  while  the  weather  is  hot,  but 
I  nearly  always  take  it  quite  by  myself.  To-night  I 
happened  to  meet  Trask  on  the  boat.  I  'd  nearly  for 
gotten  Trask.  He  was  in  my  Freshman  year  with 
me,  but  he  dropped  off  after  that.  It  was  he  who  in 
troduced  me  to  —  to  the  Miss  —  excuse  me,  but  I 
really  forget  your  friend's  name." 

*'  Miss  Bergemann,"  said  Claire. 

"  Oh,  yes  —  Miss  Bergemann."  He  paused,  at 
this  point,  gently  forcing  Claire  to  pause  also.  They 
were  still  beside  the  sea ;  the  music  still  came  to 
them  in  its  modulated  sweetness.  Hollister  bent  his 
head  quite  low,  looking  straight  down  into  her  up 
turned  face. 

"  I  Ve  told  you  ever  so  much  about  myself,"  he 
said.  ':  I  wish,  now,  that  you  'd  give  me  a  little 
knowledge  also.  Will  you  ?  " 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  197 

"  About  myself  ?  "  asked  Claire.  "  About  just 
•who  I  am?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  if  you  don't  mind." 

She  reflected  for  a  short  space.  Then  she  began 
to  speak.  She  told  him,  as  she  went  on,  more  than 
she  had  at  first  intended  to  tell.  He  listened  in 
tently  while  they  slowly  walked  on,  beside  the  dark, 
harmonious  billows. 

Before  she  had  ended,  he  had  realized  that  he  was 
in  love  with  her.  He  had  never  known  anything  of 
such  love  till  now.  His  heart  was  fluttering  in  a 
new,  wild  way  ;  he  could  scarcely  find  voice  to  an 
swer  her  when  she  at  length  ceased  to  speak.  But 
she  had  not  told  him  all  her  past  life.  She  had  re 
served  certain  facts.  And  her  own  feelings  were  en 
tirely  tranquil.  Not  the  least  responsive  tremor  dis 
turbed  her. 


XII. 

HOLLISTER  nearly  missed  the  last  boat  back  to  the 
city,  that  evening.  His  night  was  partially  sleepless, 
and  morning  brought  with  it  a  mental  preoccupation 
that  was  surely  perilous  to  what  tasks  lay  before  him. 
Like  most  men  who  have  escaped  the  stress  of  any 
important  sentiment  until  the  age  of  five-aml-twenty, 
he  was  in  excellent  condition  for  just  such  a  level 
ing  seizure  as  that  to  which  he  had  now  made  com 
plete  surrender.  He  was  what  we  call  a  weak  na 
ture,  judged  by  those  small  and  ordinary  affairs  of 
life  which  so  largely  predominate  in  almost  every 
human  career.  If  some  great  event  were  ever  fated 
to  rouse  within  him  an  especial  strength,  this  sum 
mons  had  not  yet  sounded,  and  he  still  remained,  for 
those  who  had  found  cause  to  test  the  fibre  of  his 
general  traits,  a  person  in  whom  conciliating  kindli 
ness  laid  soft  spell  upon  them  all.  His  friends  at  col 
lege  had  been  mostly  of  tough  calibre,  of  unyielding 
will ;  he  seemed  unconsciously  to  have  selected  them 
in  order  that  they  might  receive  his  concessions.  But 
they  were  never  encouraged  in  fostering  the  least 
contempt  for  him.  The  spark  of  his  anger  always 
leapt  out  with  the  true  fire,  prompt  to  resent  any 
definite  disrespect.  Yet  the  anger  sometimes  cooled 
too  quickly  toward  those  whom  he  liked ;  there  had 
been  cases  where  he  would  waive  his  own  claims 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  199 

to  be  indignant,  with  too  humble  a  repentance  of 
past  heat.  Necessarily  such  qualities  made  him  pop 
ular,  and  this  result  was  not  lessened  by  the  fact  of 
his  being  almost  rashly  generous  besides.  His  men 
tal  gifts  had  never  been  called  powerful,  but  he  had 
cut  no  sorry  sort  of  figure  as  a  student ;  and  he  pos 
sessed  an  airy  humor  that  seldom  deserted  for  a  long 
time  either  his  language  or  thought. 

During  the  week  that  followed  his  introduction  to 
Claire,  he  visited  the  hotel  where  she  was  a  guest 
on  every  evening  but  two.  One  of  those  evenings 
chanced  to  be  fiercely  rainy  ;  he  could  not  have  corne 
to  Coney  Island  without  having  his  appearance  there 
savor  markedly  of  the  ludicrous-.  The  other  evening 
was  the  last  of  the  week.  He  had  asked  Claire  to 
marry  him  the  night  before.  She  had  not  consented, 
neither  had  she  refused  :  she  had  demurred.  He  was 
piqued  by  her  hesitation,  and  affrighted  by  the 
thought  of  her  possible  coming  refusal.  He  passed 
a  night  and  a  d;iy  of  simple  torture.  Then,  his  sus 
pense  becoming  insupportable,  he  appeared  once  more 
within  her  presence.  His  aspect  shocked  her;  a  few 
hours  had  made  him  actually  haggard.  His  hand 
trembled  so  when  she  placed  her  own  within  it  that 
she  feared  the  perturbation  might  be  noticed  by 
others  besides  herself,  there  on  the  crowded  piazza 
where  they  met. 

"  I  've  come  to  get  your  answer,"  he  began,  dog 
gedly,  under  his  breath.  "  You  said  last  night  that 
you  were  not  sure  if  you  —  you  cared  enough  for  me. 
Have  you  found  out,  by  this  time,  whether  you  do  or 
no?" 

"  There  are  two  empty  seats,  yonder,  near  the  rail 
ing  of  the  piazza.  Shall  we  sit  there  ?  "  She  said 
this  almost  in  a  whisper, 


200  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  If  you  choose.  But  I  —  I  'd  rather  be  down  on 
the  sands.  I  'd  rather  listen  to  it  there,  whatever 
it  is." 

But  Claire  feigned  not  to  hear  him.  It  was  her 
caprice  to  remain  among  the  throng.  She  moved  to 
ward  the  empty  seats  that  she  had  indicated,  he  fol 
lowing.  In  all  such  minor  matters  she  had  already 
become  the  one  who  dictated  and  he  the  one  who 
acquiesced. 

The  night,  lying  beyond  them,  was  cool  but  beau 
tifully  calm.  An  immature  moon  hung  in  the  heav 
ens,  and  tinged  the  smooth  sea  with  vapory  silver,  so 
that  its  outward  spaces  took  an  unspeakable  softness, 
as  though  Nature  were  putting  the  idea  of  infinity 
in  her  very  tenderest  terms. 

There  was  no  music  to-night,  for  some  reason. 
The  buzz  of  voices  all  about  them  soon  produced  for 
each  a  sense  of  privacy  in  the  midst  of  publicity. 

"You  asked  me  to  be  your  wife  last  night," 
Claire  began,  looking  at  him  steadily  a  little  while 
after  they  were  both  seated,  and  not  using  any  spe 
cial  moderation  of  tone  because  certain  of  her  own 
vantage  in  the  prompt  detection  of  a  would  -  be 
listener.  "  Before  I  give  you  any  final  answer  to 
that  request  —  which  I,  of  course,  feel  to  be  a  great 
honor  —  it  is  only  just  and  fair  that  I  should  make 
you  know  one  or  two  facts  of  my  past  life,  hitherto 
left  untold." 

This  was  not  the  language  of  passion.  Perhaps 
he  saw  but  too  plainly  its  entire  lack  of  fervor.  Yet 
it  seemed  to  point  toward  future  consent,  and  he  felt 
his  bosom  swell  with  hope. 

"  If  it  is  anything  you  would  rather  leave  untold," 
he  said,  with  a  magnanimity  not  wholly  born  of  his 
deep  love,  "  I  have  not  the  least  desire  to  learn  it." 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  201 

Claire  shook  her  head.  u  You  must  know  it,"  she 
returned.  "  I  prefer,  I  demand  that  you  shall  know 
it." 

He  felt  too  choked  for  any  answer  to  leave  him. 
If  she  imposed  this  condition,  what  was  meant  by  its 
sweet  imperiousness  except  the  happy  future  truco 
for  which  he  so  strongly  yearned  ?  On  some  men 
might  have  flashed  the  dread  suspicion  that  her  words 
carried  portent  of  an  unpardonable  fault,  about  to  be 
confessed  there  and  then.  But  Hollister's  love  clad 
its  object  in  a  sanctifying  purity.  Apart  from  this, 
moreover,  his  mind  could  give  none  of  that  grim  wel 
come  which  certain  dark  fears  easily  gain  elsewhere. 
The  sun  hud  long  ago  knit  so  many  wholesome 
gleams  into  his  being  that  he  had  no  morbid  hospi 
tality  for  the  entertainment  of  shadows. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  of  how  my  father  died,"  Claire 
went  on,  with  her  face  so  grave  in  every  line  that 
it  won  a  new,  unwonted  beauty  from  the  change. 
"  And  I  want  to  tell  you,  also,  of  something  that  was 
done  to  me  after  his  death,  and  of  something  that  I 
myself  did,  not  in  personal  revenge  for  my  own  sense 
of  injury,  but  with  the  desire  to  assert  my  great  re 
spect  for  his  loved  memory,  and  to  deal  justice  where 
I  thought  justice  was  deserved." 

Then  in  somewhat  faltering  tones,  because  she  had 
deliberately  pressed  backward  among  recollections 
so  holy  that  she  seemed  to  herself  like  one  treading 
on  a  place  filled  with  sacred  tombs,  she  recounted 
the  whole  bitter  story  of  her  mother's  avarice,  of 
her  father's  ignoble  burial,  and  of  her  own  resultant 
flight.  The  tears  stood  in  her  eyes  before  she  had 
ended,  though  they  did  not  fall.  As  her  voice  ceased 
she  saw  that  Hollister  had  grown  very  pale,  and  that 


202  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

his  brows  met  in  a  stern  frown.  At  tbe  same  mo 
ment  bis  lip  trembled;  and  as  be  leaned  forward, 
took  ber  baud  into  bis  own,  pressed  it  once,  briefly 
but  forcibly,  and  tben  released  it,  sbe  caugbt  witbin 
bis  gaze  a  ligbt  of  profound  and  unmistakable  sym- 
patby. 

"  I  tbink  your  motber's  course  was  infamous,"  be 
said.  "  Did  you  suppose  tbat  I  could  possibly  blame 
you  for  leaving  ber  ?  " 

Claire  bad  dropped  ber  bead,  now,  so  tbat  be  could 
see  only  tbe  wbite  curve  of  ber  forehead  beneatb  its 
floss  of  waved  and  gold-tinted  bair.  And  sbe  spoke 
so  low  that  be  could  just  bear  ber,  and  no  more. 

"  Yes,  I  tbougbt  you  migbt  blame  me.  ...  I  was 
not  sure.  .  .  .  Or,  if  not  tbis,  I  feared  tbat  tbe  way 
in  wbicb  poor  Fatber  was  buried  migbt  .  .  .  migbt 
make  you  feel  as  if  I  bore  a  stain  —  or  at  least  tbat 
tbe  disgrace  of  sucb  a  burial,  and  of  baving  a  motber 
wbo  could  commit  so  bard  and  bad  an  act,  must  re 
flect  in  sbame  upon  myself." 

If  tbey  bad  been  alone  together,  Hollistcr  would 
bave  answered  tliis  faint-voiced,  besitant  speecb  by 
simply  clasping  Claire  witbin  bis  arms.  But  tbe 
place  forbade  any  sucb  fondly  demonstrative  course. 
He  was  forced  to  keep  bis  glad  impetuosity  witbin 
conventional  bounds ;  yet  tbe  glow  on  bis  face  and 
tbe  tremulous  ardor  of  bis  tones  betrayed  bow  cogent 
a  surge  of  feeling  was  threatening  to  sweep  bim,  poor 
fellow,  past  all  barriers  of  propriety. 

As  it  was,  be  spoke  some  words  wbicb  be  after 
ward  failed  to  remember,  except  in  tbe  sense  tbat 
tbey  were  filled  witb  fond,  precipitate  denial  of  all 
tbat  Claire  bad  said.  He  felt  so  dazed  by  the  bliss 
tbat  bad  rushed  upon  bim  as  to  fail,  also,  of  recall- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  203 

ing  just  how  he  and  Claire  left  the  populous  piazza, 
and  just  how  they  reached  the  lonelier  dusk  of  the 
shore.  But  the  waves  brought  him  rare  music  as  he 
paced  the  sands  a  little  later.  His  was  the  divine 
intoxication  that  may  drug  the  warder,  memory,  but 
that  wakes  to  no  remorseful  morrow.  .  .  . 

Claire  wondered  to  herself  when  she  was  alone, 
that  night,  at  the  suddenness  of  the  whole  rapid 
event.  She  had  given  her  pledge  to  become  Her 
bert  Hollister's  wife  in  the  autumn.  While  she 
viewed  her  promise  in  every  sort  of  light,  it  seemed 
to  her  sensible,  discreet,  even  creditable.  He  was  a 
gentleman,  and  she  liked  him  very  much.  She  had 
no  belief,  no  premonition  that  she  would  ever  like 
any  one  else  better.  She  was  far  from  telling  herself 
that  she  did  not  love  him.  We  have  heard  her  call 
herself  cold,  and  it  had  grown  a  fixed  creed  with  her 
that  she  was  exempted  by  some  difference  of  tem 
perament  from  the  usual  throes  and  fervors.  He 
suited  her  admirably,  in  person,  in  disposition,  in 
manners.  She  need  never  be  ashamed  of  him  ;  she 
might  indeed  be  well  proud  of  so  gallant  and  hand 
some  a  husband.  Her  influence  over  him  was  great ; 
she  could  doubtless  sway,  even  mould  him,  just  as 
she  desired.  And  she  would  bear  clearly  in  mind 
those  warning  words  of  Beverley  Thurston's :  she 
would  use  her  power  to  good  ends,  though  they 
might  be  ambitious  ones.  From  a  worldly  stand 
point,  he  was  comfortably  well  off;  his  income  was 
several  thousands  a  year  ;  he  had  told  her  so.  With 
his  youth  and  energy  he  might  gain  much  more. 
She  would  stimulate,  abet,  encourage  him  toward  the 
accomplishment  of  this  purpose.  He  should  always 
be  glad  of  having  chosen  her.  She  would  hold  it 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

constantly  to  heart  that  he  should  find  in  her  a  guide, 
a  help,  a  devoted  friend.  And  he,  on  his  side,  should 
aid  her  to  win  the  place  that  she  coveted,  loving  her 
all  the  better  because  she  had  achieved  it. 

When  these  rather  curious  meditations  had  ceased, 
she  fell  into  a  placid  sleep.  She  had  been  wholly  un. 
conscious  of  the  selfish  pivot  on  which  they  turned. 
It  had  quite  escaped  her  realization  that  they  were 
singularly  unsuited  to  the  night  of  her  betrothal. 
She  had  no  conception  of  how  little  she  was  giving 
and  how  much  she  was  demanding.  She  fell  asleep 
with  a  perfectly  good  conscience,  and  a  secret  amused 
expectancy  on  the  subject  of  Sophia's  and  Mrs.  Ber- 
gemann's  surprise  when  to-morrow  should  bring  them 
the  momentous  tidings  of  her  engagement. 

But  they  were  not  so  much  surprised  as  she  had 
anticipated.  The  attentions  of  Hollister  had  been 
brief,  yet  of  telling  earnestness.  Sophia  hugged  her 
friend,  and  cried  a  little.  "  You  mean  old  thing," 
she  exclaimed,  "  to  go  and  get  engaged !  Now,  of 
course,  you  '11  be  getting  married  and  leaving  us." 

"  I  'm  afraid  that 's  the  natural  consequence,"  said 
Claire,  with  a  smile.  Mrs.  Bergemann  pressed  her 
to  the  portly  bosom,  and  whispered  confidentially, 
just  after  the  kiss  of  congratulation:  "He's  a  real 
ellergant  gentleman.  I  think  I  know  one  when  I 
see  one,  Claire.  And  don't  you  let  Sophia  set  you 
against  him.  She  better  try  and  do  half  as  well  her 
self.  She  'II  marry  some  adventuring  pauper,  if  she 
ain't  careful,  I  just  do  believe." 

Claire  felt  a  great  inward  amusement  at  the 
thought  of  Hollister  being  depreciated  in  her  eyes 
by  any  light  value  which  Sophia  might  set  upon 
him.  As  it  proved,  however,  Sophia  soon  learned  to 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  205 

forgive  him  for  the  engagement,  and  to  treat  him 
very  graciously.  Before  the  summer  had  grown  much 
older  Claire  and  her  lover  began  to  be  pointed  out  by 
the  few  other  permanent  boarders  of  the  hotel,  with 
that  interest  which  clings  like  a  rosy  nimbus  about 
the  doings  of  all  betrothed  young  people.  They  cer 
tainly  made  a  very  handsome  couple,  as  they  strolled 
hither  and  thither.  But  Claire's  interest,  on  her  own 
side,  had  been  roused  by  certain  little  cOteries  that 
would  often  group  at  one  end  of  the  monster  piazza. 
The  ladies  of  these  small  assemblages  were  mostly 
very  refined-looking  persons,  and  many  of  the  gentle 
men  reminded  her  of  Hollister,  though  their  coats, 
trousers,  boots,  and  neck-ties  not  seldom  bore  an  elab 
orated  smartness  unpossessed  by  his.  They  looked, 
in  current  idiom,  as  though  they  had  come  out  of 
band-boxes,  with  their  high,  stiff  collars,  their  silver- 
topped  walking  sticks,  and  their  general  air  of  polite 
indolence.  The  ladies,  clad  in  lace-trimmed  muslins 
and  wearing  long  gloves  that  reached  above  their  el 
bows,  would  hold  chats  with  their  gallants  under  the 
shade  of  big,  cool-colored  parasols.  Claire  was  often 
pierced  by  a  sense  of  their  remarkable  exclusiveness 
•when  she  watched  their  dainty  gatherings  ;  and  she 
watched  them  with  a  good  deal  of  covert  concern. 
Hollister  could  not  even  tell  her  any  of  the  gentle 
men's  names.  This  caused  her  a  sting  of  regret.  She 
wanted  him  to  be  at  least  important  enough  for  that. 
His  ignorance  argued  him  too  unknown,  too  unnoted. 
One  day,  to  her  surprise,  Claire  perceived  Mrs.  Arcu- 
larius,  her  former  august  schoolmistress,  seated  amid 
a  group  of  this  select  description.  Mrs.  Ai-cularius 
had  lost  none  of  her  old  majesty.  It  was  still  there, 
and  it  was  an  older  majesty,  by  many  new  gray  hairs, 


206  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

many  acquired  wrinkles.  She  was  a  stouter  person, 
but  the  stoutness  did  not  impair  her  dignity;  she  bore 
her  flesh  well. 

Claire  determined  to  address  her.  She  waited  the 
chance,  and  carried  out  her  project.  Mrs.  Arculariua 
was  just  rising,  with  two  or  three  other  ladies,  for 
the  purpose  of  going  inside  to  luncheon,  when  Claire 
decided  to  make  the  approach. 

She  looked  very  charming  as  she  did  so.  ITollister 
had  brought  her  a  bunch  of  roses  the  evening  before, 
and  she  had  kept  them  fresh  with  good  care  until 
now.  They  were  fixed,  at  present,  in  the  bosom  of 
her  simple  white  muslin  dress,  and  they  became  her 
perfectly.  She,  went  quite  close  to  Mrs.  Arcularius, 
and  boldly  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you  again,"  she  said, 
"  and  I  hope  you  have  not  forgotten  me." 

Mrs.  Arcularius  took  her  hand.  Under  the  cir 
cumstances  she  could  not  have  done  otherwise  without 
committing  a  harsh  rudeness.  And  she  was  a  woman 
whose  rudenesses  were  never  harsh. 

With  her  disengaged  hand  she  put  up  a  pair  of 
gold  eye-glasses.  "  Oh,  yes,  surely  yes,"  she  said, 
while  softly  dropping  Claire's  hand  ;  "  you  were  one 
of  my  pupils  ?  " 

Claire  did  not  like  this  at  all.  But  she  would  not 
have  shown  a  trace  of  chagrin,  just  then,  for  a  heavy 
reward.  She  smiled,  knowing  how  sweet  her  smile 
was,  and  promptly  answered  : 

"  I  'm  sorry  that  you  only  remember  me  as  one  of 
your  pupils.  I  should  like  you  to  remember  my 
name  also.  Are  you  quite  certain  that  it  has  escaped 
you?  Does  not  my  face  recall  it?" 

"  Your  face  is  n  very  pretty  one,  my  dear,"  said 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  207 

Mrs.  Arcularius.  She  looked,  while  speaking,  to 
ward  her  recent  companions,  who  were  moving  away, 
with  light  touches  of  their  disarranged  draperies  and 
side-long  glances  at  Claire.  Her  tones  were  impene 
trably  civil,  but  her  wandering  eye,  and  the  slight 
averted  turn  of  her  large  frame,  made  their  civility 
bear  the  value,  no  less,  of  an  impromptu  veneer. 

Claire  divined  all  this,  with  rapid  insight.  Her 
wifc  began  to  work,  in  a  sudden  defensive  way.  She 
preserved  her  smile,  looking  straight  at  Mrs.  Arcu 
larius  while  she  said,  in  a  voice  pitched  so  that  the 
other  ladies  must  of  necessity  hear  it : 

"  I  was  so  obscure  a  little  girl  amon"1  all  the  grand 

o  o  o 

little  girls  who  went  to  your  school  in  my  time,  that 
I  don't  at  all  blame  you  for  finding  it  inconvenient 
to  recall  me.  I  fear  I  have  been  mistaken  in  address 
ing  you  as  the  woman  of  business,  my  dear  madam, 
when  you  find  the  great  lady  alone  to  your  humor. 
But  you  have  played  both  parts  with  so  much  suc 
cess  that  perhaps  you  will  pardon  rne  for  alluding  to 
one  at  the  expense  of  the  other." 

There  was  nothing  pert  in  Claire's  little  speech. 
The  few  seconds  that  it  took  her  to  make  it  were 
epical  in  her  life ;  they  showed  her  the  quality  of  her 
own  powers  to*  strike  back  with  a  sure  aim  and  a 
calm  nerve ;  she  was  trying  those  powers  as  we  try 
the  temper  of  a  new  blade. 

She  moved  away  at  once,  with  tranquil  grace,  and 
not  a  hint  of  added  color  or  disconcerted  demeanor. 
It  was  really  very  well  done,  in  the  sense  that  we  call 
things  well  done  which  depend  upon  their  manner, 
their  felicity,  their  chic  of  method.  The  ladies  looked 
at  each  other  and  smiled,  as  though  they  would  rather 
have  kept  their  lips  grave  through  politeness  to  Mrs. 


208  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Arcularius ;  and  she,  on  her  own  side,  did  not  smile 
at  all,  but  revealed  that  disarray  of  manner  which  we 
can  best  express  in  the  case  of  some  large  fluttered 
bird  by  noting  its  ruffled  plumage. 

Nothing  in  Claire's  past  had  qualified  her  for  this 
deft  nicety  of  rebuke.  Those  stands  made  against 
her  mother's  coarse  onsets  had  surely  offered  but  a 
clumsy  training-school  for  such  delicate  defiance. 
And  yet  her  history  has  thus  far  been  followed  ill 
if  what  she  said  and  did  on  a  certain  day  in  Mrs. 
Arcularius's  school  -  room  has  not  foreshadowed  in 
some  measure  the  line  of  her  present  action.  Per 
haps  it  was  all  purely  instinctive,  and  there  had  been, 
back  in  the  gentility  of  her  father's  ancestry,  some 
dame  of  nimble  repartee  and  impregnable  self-posses 
sion,  who  had  won  antique  repute  as  dangerous  to 
bandy  speech  with. 

But  Claire's  tranquillity  soon  fled.  She  was 
scarcely  out  of  Mrs.  Arcularius's  sight  before  an  an 
gry  agitation  assailed  her.  When,  a  little  later,  she 
met  Sophia  in  one  of  the  halls,  it  was  with  sharp  dif 
ficulty  that  she  hid  her  distress. 

Still,  however,  she  did  hide  it,  sure  of  no  sympathy, 
in  this  quarter,  of  a  sort  that  could  help  to  heal  her 
fresh  wound.  That  evening,  howevSr,  a  little  after 
the  arrival  of  Hollister,  and  while  they  walked  the 
sea-fronting  lawns  and  listened  to  the  distant  band, 
as  had  now  grown  a  nightly  and  accepted  event  with 
them,  she  narrated  the  whole  circumstance  of  the 
morning. 

"  Do  you  think  I  did  right,  Herbert  ?  "  she  finished, 
sure  of  his  answer  before  it  came. 

"Perfectly,  my  darling,"  he  said,  looking  down 
into  her  dim,  uplifted  face.  "  I  would  u't  have  had 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  209 

you  do  anything  else.  You  must  cut  that  old  Gor 
gon  if  you  ever  meet  her  again.  You  must  cut  her 
dead,  before  she  has  a  chance  to  serve  the  same  trick 
on  you." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  returned  Claire,  as  if 
his  words  had  set  her  thoughts  into  a  new  groove. 
"  Perhaps  she  may  be  of  use  to  me  afterward.  I 
may  need  her  if  we  ever  meet  in  ...  society."  She 
slightly  paused  before  speaking  the  last  word.  "  If 
she  has  n't  left  by  to-morrow  I  shan't  see  her,  you 
know.  I  won't  cut  her ;  I  simply  shan't  see  her.  It 
will  be  better." 

Hollister  laughed.  What  he  would  have  disliked 
in  another  woman  fascinated  him  in  Claire.  "  You 
little  ambitious  vixen,"  he  said,  in  his  mellow  under 
tone.  "I  suppose  you  will  lead  me  a  fine  dance, 
after  we  are  married.  I  suppose  you  will  make  me 
strain  and  struggle  to  put  you  high  up,  on  the  top 
rung  of  the  ladder." 

"  I  should  like  to  be  on  the  top  rung  of  the  lad 
der,"  said  Claire,  with  that  supreme  frankness  a  wo 
man  sometimes  employs  when  sure  that  the  man  who 
listens  to  her  will  clothe  each  word  she  speaks  in  an 
ideal  halo. 

At  the  same  time,  she  had  an  honest  impulse  to 
ward  Hollister  which  should  be  recorded  to  $her 
credit.  She  had  not  planned  for  him  any  thrilling 
discoveries  of  her  worldliness  after  their  marriage ; 
she  dSndidly  saved  him  all  peril  of  disappointment. 
But  he,  on  the  other  hand,  could  see  neither  rock  nor 
shoal  ahead.  If  she  pointed  toward  them,  he  looked 
only  at  the  hand  which  pointed,  and  not  at  the  ob 
ject  it  so  gracefully  signaled. 

She  did  not  see  Mrs.  Arcularius  again.  That 
14 


210  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

lady's  visit  had  doubtless  been  for  a  day  only.  The 
dainty  groups  still  assembled,  mornings  and  after 
noons,  just  as  before.  Now  and  then  she  thought 
that  some  of  their  members  —  those  who  had  wit 
nessed  the  little  scene  with  her  former  schoolmistress 

—  gave  her  a  look  of  placid  attention  which  seemed 
to  say:  "  There  you  are.    We  remember  you.     You 
are  the  young  person  who  asserted  yourself." 

She  wanted  them  to  address  her,  to  strike  an  ac 
quaintance  with  her.  But  they  never  did.  This 
piqued  her,  as  they  were  all  permanent  residents  at 
the  hotel.  She  made  no  concealment  of  her  wish  to 
Hollister. 

"  It  is  too  bad  you  do  not  know  some  of  their  male 
friends,"  she  said.  "  If  you  did,  I  should  get  you  to 
introduce  them." 

He  fired  a  little  at  this,  mildly  jealous.  "  Do  you 
really  mean  it  ?  "  he  asked,  with  doleful  reproach. 

Claire  did  not  understand  his  jealousy,  at  first; 
then  it  flashed  upon  her,  through  a  sudden  realization 
of  his  great  fondness. 

"  Oh,  I  should  merely  like  to  know  them  for  one 
reason,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  They  would  introduce 
me  in  turn,  perhaps,  to  those  charming  looking  ladies, 
who  belong  to  another  world.  I  like  their  world  — 
that  is,  the  little  I  have  seen  of  it.  I  want  to  see 
more.  I  want  to  have  them  find  out  that  I  am  quite 
suited  to  be  one  of  them." 

His  jealousy  was  appeased.  He  softened  in1^  mo 
ment.  It  was  only  her  pretty  little  foible,  after  all 

—  her  delightfully  droll  longing  to  be  ranked  among 
the  lofty  aristocrats. 

"  I  wish  I  did  know  some  of  the  men  you  mean," 
he  said,  with  apologetic  concern,  as  though  she  had 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  211 

asked  him  for  some  gift  which  he  could  not  manage 
to  secure.  "  I  think  that  I  have  seen  two  or  three 
of  them  in  Wall  Street;  but  we  have  never  met  on 
speaking-terms." 

More  than  once  he  pointed  out  to  her  a  gentleman 
in  the  throng  whom  lie  did  know,  or  told  her  the 
name  of  such  an  acquaintance,  after  transiently  bow 
ing  to  him.  But  Claire,  with  a  fleet  glance  that  was 
decisively  critical,  never  expressed  a  desire  to  meet 
the  individuals  thus  designated.  Something  in  their 
mien  or  attire  always  displeased  her.  She  dismissed 
them  from  her  consciousness  with  the  speed  born  of 
total  indifference. 

And  now  a  most  unforeseen  thing  happened.  Mr. 
Trask,  of  the  yellow  eyebrows,  had  made  repeated 
visits  to  Sophia,  but  Claire,  because  of  the  novel 
change  in  her  own  life,  had  failed  to  observe  what 
to  Mrs.  Bergemann  had  become  glaringly  evident. 
One  day,  in  the  middle  of  August,  Claire  entered 
the  latter's  room,  and  found  Sophia  weeping  and  her 
mother  briskly  loquacious. 

"I  don't  know  what  she's  crying  about,  Claire," 
Mrs.  Bergemann  at  once  proceeded  to  explain,  with 
an  aggrieved  look  toward  her  tearful  daughter. 
"  She  don't  want  to  go  with  me  home  to  Germany ; 
I  s'pose  that 's  it.  And  there  's  my  own  flesh  and 
blood,  Katrina  Hoffmann,  who  's  written  me  a  letter, 
and  begged  me  in  it  to  come  and  pay  her  a  visit  be 
fore  she  dies.  And  because  I  want  to  go  across  in 
September  —  after  you  're  married,  Claire,  of  course 
—  Sophia  behaves  like  a  baby." 

"Katrina  Hoffmann  !  "  now  exclaimed  Sophia,  with 
plaintive  contempt.  "She's  Ma's  second -cousin, 
Claire.  Ajid  what  does  Ma  care  about  Germany  ? 


212  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

She  was  a  child  of  ten  when  she  left  it.  I  don't 
want  to  go,  and  I  won't  go,  and  there  's  all  about 
it!" 

But  Sophia,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  had  found 
a  master  in  the  mother  who  had  so  incessantly  yielded 
to  her  least  whim.  The  letter  from  Germany,  as 
Claire  soon  discovered,  was  a  mere  pretext  for  flight. 
And  Trask,  of  the  yellow  eyebrows,  had  caused  this 
fugitive  impulse  in  Mrs.  Bergemann.  She  had 
learned  about  Trask  ;  he  was  a  clerk  in  an  insurance 
company,  on  seven  hundred  a  year.  Sophia  was  the 
heiress  of  three  millions.  It  would  never  do.  All 
Mrs.  Bergemann's  rich  fund  of  good  nature  shrank 
into  arid  disapproval  of  so  one-sided  a  match.  She 
developed  a  monstrous  obstinacy.  It  was  the  old  ma 
ternal  instinct;  she  was  protecting  her  young.  They 
went  to  Germany  in  spite  of  all  Sophia's  lamenta 
tions.  They  went  in  the  middle  of  September,  and 
poor  Trask  was  left  to  mourn  his  lost  opportunities. 
Certain  threats  or  entreaties,  declaimed  in  private  to 
Sophia  by  her  affrighted  parent,  may  have  laid  a  veto 
upon  the  maiden's  possible  elopement.  Or  it  may 
have  been  Trask's  own  timid  fault  that  she  did  not 
fly  with  him.  For  she  was  Very  fond  of  Trask,  and 
might  have  lent  a  thrilled  ear  to  any  ardent  proposi 
tion  from  so  beloved  a  source.  But  Trask  had  not  a 
romantic  soul  ;  he  accepted  his  fate  with  prosaic  res 
ignation.  Moreover,  his  tendency  to  be  obliging,  to 
grant  favors,  to  make  himself  of  high  value  in  an 
emergency,  may  have  come  forth  in  heroic  brilliancy 
at  the  private  request  of  Mrs.  Bergemann  herself. 

Wherever  the  real  truth  of  the  matter  may  have 
lain,  Mrs.  Bergemann  and  Sophia,  as  a  plain  fact, 
went  to  Europe  in  September,  leaving  the  bereaved 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  213 

Trask  behind  them.  But  both,  before  their  depart 
ure,  were  present  at  the  marriage  of  Claire  and  Her 
bert  Hollister. 

It  was  a  very  quiet  wedding.  It  occurred  on  an 
exceedingly  hot  day.  Sophia  and  her  mother  were 
to  sail  the  day  after.  They  both  gave  effusive  good 
byes  to  Claire  as  she  left  the  Fifth  Avenue  mansion 
in  her  traveling-di-ess  at  Hollister's  side. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  should  never,  never  see  you  again !  " 
Sophia  said,  in  a  sort  of  pathetic  gurgle,  with  both 
arms  round  Claire's  neck. 

It  was  indeed  true  that  they  never  met  again. 
Sophia  afterward  forgot  Trask,  and  married  in  Eu 
rope.  Her  husband,  as  a  few  ill-spelled  letters  would 
from  time  to  time  inform  Claire,  was  a  Baron.  Up 
to  the  period  when  these  letters  ceased,  Sophia  had! 
repeatedly  declared  herself  to  be  very  happy.  Claire 
occasionally  wondered  whether  Mrs.  Bergemann  had 
approved  of  the  Baron.  But  Mrs.  Bergemann  did 
not  come  back  to  tell,  which,  after  all,  seemed  like  a 
good  omen. 

On  that  sultry  September  day  of  their  marriage, 
Claire  and  Hollister  started  for  Niagara,  where  they 
remained  but  a  brief  while.  They  then  returned  to 
Manhattan  Beach  by  mutual  consent.  The  weather 
still  remained  very  hot.  It  was  what  we  call  a  late 
season. 

They  found  at  the  hotel  a  moderate  number  of 
guests,  who  were  waiting  for  the  first  sharp  gust  of 
autumn  to  make  them  scurry  in  droves  from  the  sea 
side. 

Hollister  resumed  his  business.  He  went  and  came 
every  day  in  the  train  or  boat. 


214  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAX. 

Claire  did  not  feel  at  all  like  a  bride.  But  she  and 
her  husband  had  talked  together  about  their  future, 
and  she  had  the  sense  of  a  great,  vital,  prosperous 
change.  She  felt  like  a  wife. 


XIII. 

A  LONG  chain  of  days  followed,  each  in  every  way 
like  the  other.  One  steady  yet  lazy  wind  pulsed  from 
the  south  ;  the  skies  were  clad  with  an  *unaltering 
blue  haze  from  dawn  till  dark,  except  that  a  rosy 
flush,  like  a  kind  of  languid  aurora,  would  steal  into 
the  full  round  of  the  horizon  with  each  new  sunset, 
and  stay  until  evening  had  first  empurpled  it,  then 
darkened  it  completely.  Afterward  the  stars  would 
conie  forth,  golden,  globular,  and  ray  less,  while  the 
same  unchanged  southerly  wind  would  get  a  damp 
sharpness  that  made  at  least  a  light  wrap  needful  if 
one  remained  out  of  doors.  The  great  piazza  would 
be  almost  vacant  an  hour  or  so  after  nightfall,  and 
the  whole  shore  quite  lonely.  As  regarded  all  after- 
dark  visitors,  the  island  had  virtually  closed  its  sea 
son.  But  Claire  and  Hollister  haunted  the  piazza  a 
good  deal  when  the  early  autumnal  darkness  had 
emptied  it  of  occupants.  After  they  had  dined  he 
would  light  his  cigar,  and  then  select  a  certain  hun 
dred  yards  or  so  of  the  firm  wooden  flooring,  over 
which  they  passed  and  repassed,  arm-in-arm,  more 
times  than  perhaps  both  their  healthful  young  frames 
realized.  The  other  guests  of  the  hotel  doubtless 
conjectured  that  they  were  saying  all  sorts  of  tender 
trifles  to  each  other,  according  to  the  immemorial 
mode  of  those  from  whom  the  honeymoon,  lias  not 


216  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

yet  withdrawn  her  witching  spells.  But  in  reality 
there  was  very  little  between  them  of  what  we  term 
lover-like  discourse.  Claire  discouraged  it  in  her  hus 
band,  who  obeyed  the  tacit  mandate. 

She  was  prosaic  and  practical  on  these  occasions. 
It  amused  and  charmed  Hollister  to  find  her  so.  In 
any  guise  that  it  chose  to  wear,  her  personality  was 
an  enchantment.  Claire  planned  just  how  they  were 
to  live  on  their  return  to  town,  and  he  thought  her 
irresistible  in  this  role  of  domestic  anticipation. 

"  We  shall  have  to  find  apartments,"  she  told  him. 
"  We  cannot  afford  to  rent  a  house  of  our  own.  But 
apartments  are  very  nice  and  respectable.  They  are 
quite  different  from  a  boarding-house,  you  know.  I 
should  be  very  sorry  if  we  were  compelled  to  board." 

"  So  should  I,"  declared  Hollister.  "  Are  you  sure 
that  we  have  not  enough  to  let  us  rent  a  small 
house  ?  " 

Claire's  eyes  glistened,  as  though  the  chance  of 
their  income  being  made  to  stretch  thus  far  sug 
gested  charming  possibilities.  But  she  soon  gave  a 
sad  shake  of  the  head.  "  No,"  she  decided.  "  We 
should  only  find  ourselves  running  into  debt.  We 
had  better  take  no  rash  risks.  Your  business  is  full 
of  them,  as  it  is,  Herbert.  Besides,  a  year  or  two 
may  make  the  change  easy  for  ns." 

She  amazed  him  by  the  speed  with  which  she 
learned  just  how  his  affairs  stood.  Her  quick  mas 
tery  of  facts  that  with  most  women  baffle  both  mem 
ory  and  understanding,  was  no  less  rare  than  thor 
ough.  It  had  always  been  thus  with  her.  Whatever 
she  wanted  to  comprehend  became  her  mental  pos 
session  after  slight  and  brief  effort.  It  was  not  long 
before  she  read  the  ^rice-list  of  stocks  in  the  morning 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  217 

papers  with  nearly  as  lucid  a  perception  of  just  what 
it  meant  as  Ilollister  himself.  She  made  her  hus 
band  explain  as  well  as  he  could  —  and  this  was  by 
no  means  ill,  —  both  the  theory  and  practice  of  Wall 
Street  speculation.  She  soon  began  to  know  all  his 
important  investments,  and  talk  of  them  with  facile 
glibness. 

Her  control  over  Hollister  daily  strengthened.  She 
would  have  swayed  a  man  of  much  firmer  will,  and  it 
is  certain  that  he  grew  steadily  more  deferent  to  her 
judgment,  her  counsel,  or  even  her  caprices.  The 
desire  that  she  so  plainly  laid  bare  to  him  he  had  al 
ready  estimated  as  a  most  right  and  natural  develop 
ment.  In  his  eyes  it  was  touched  with  no  shade  of 
seHishness ;  its  egotism  was  to  be  readily  enough  con 
doned  ;  one  liked  self-assertion  in  those  whom  nature 
had  wrought  of  finer  stature,  from  better  clay.  The 
queen  pined  for  throne  and  sceptre ;  they  were  a  debt 
owed  her  by  the  world  ;  she  could  not  help  being 
born  royal. 

It  irritated  him  that  those  people  in  the  hotel 
whom  she  had  expressed  a  wish  to  know,  should  not 
have  sought  her  acquaintance  and  society.  She  must 
have  struck  them  as  a  creature  of  great  beauty  and 
grace.  Why  had  they  not  been  won  into  paying  her 
tribute  ?  This  was  Hollister's  fond  way  of  putting 
the  matter  to  his  own  thoughts.  A  few  of  these 
same  people  still  remained.  They  formed  a  little 
clique  among  themselves ;  they,  too,  were  waiting  for 
the  drowsy  and  torpid  weather  to  wake  up  and  send 
them  town  ward.  They  saw  Claire  daily,  almost 
hourly,  and  .yet  they  never  showed  a  sign  of  caring  to 
do  more  than  see  her.  Ilollister  secretly  resented 
their  indifference.  His  pride  perhaps  conspired  with 


218  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

his  love  in  making  him  bring  Claire  a  fresh  supply  of 
flowers  every  evening,  that  she  might  wear  them 
brilliantly  knotted  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress.  She 
remonstrated  with  him  on  the  extravagance  of  this 
little  devoted  act,  but  for  once  he  overruled  her  pro 
test  by  a  reference  to  the  cheapness  of  flowers  at  that 
especial  season.  She  always  wore  the  flowers.  Jut 
ting  forth  in  a  rich  mass  from  the  delicate  symmetry 
of  her  breast,  they  became  her  to  perfection,  as  their 
lovely  contact  becomes  all  save  the  most  ill-favored 
of  women.  She  allowed  Hollister  to  continue  his 
pleasant,  flattering  gift.  The  mirror  in  her  dressing- 
room  was  of  generous  proportions. 

By  day  she  liked  to  stroll  the  shore,  or  to  sit  with 
a  book  on  one  of  the  many  benches,  and  watch,  when 
not  reading,  the  pale  blue  sweep  of  ocean,  smooth 
as  oil,  and  flecked  with  a  few  white- winged  ships. 
Some  of  the  sails  were  so  faint  and  far  away  to  the 
eye  that  they  made  her  think  of  blossoms  blown  by 
a  random  breeze  clear  out  into  the  misty  offing.  But 
now  and  then  a  boat  would  move  past,  hugging  the 
shore,  and  wearing  on  its  breadth  of  canvas  huge 
black  letters  that  advertised  a  soap,  a  washing  pow 
der  or  perhaps  a  quack  medicine.  The  tender  poetry 
in  sky  or  sea  gave  these  relentless  merchantmen  (if 
the  term  be  not  inapt)  a  most  glaring  oddity.  But 
Claire  did  not  wholly  dislike,  after  all,  the  busy  push 
of  life  and  traffic  which  they  so  harshly  indicated. 
If  she  had  been  less  capable  of  understanding  just 
how  vulgar  a  note  they  struck,  she  might  have  dis 
approved  of  them  more  stoutly.  As  it  was,  she  ac 
cepted  their  intrusion  with  full  recognition  of  its 
ugliness,  yet  with  a  latent  and  peculiar  sympathy. 
It  reminded  her  of  the  vast  mercantile  city  that  lay 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  219 

so  near— the  city  where  her  young  husband  was 
seeking  to  augment  his  gains,  and  by  a  process  of 
slight  essential  difference. 

But  curiously  in  contrast  with  this  feeling  was 
Claire's  mode  of  now  and  then  speaking  to  the  shabby 
people  who  frequented  the  shore,  and  repeatedly  giv 
ing  them  alms  when  this  or  that  woful  story  of 
want  would  meet  her  ears.  Past  experiences  made 
her  singularly  keen  in  detecting  all  the  sham  tales  of 
beggars.  She  had  learned  the  real  dialect  of  poverty, 
and  her  sense  was  quiok  to  perceive  any  suspicious 
flaw  in  its  melancholy  syntax.  More  than  once  she 
would  engage  little  dingy-clad  children  in  converse, 
and  nearly  always  a  coin  would  be  slipped  into  their 
hands  at  parting.  But  one  day  it  happened  that  a 
child  of  smart  gear,  a  little  girl  about  five  years  old, 
came  up  to  her  side  and  began  prattling  on  the  sub 
ject  of  a  sandy  structure  which  the  plump,  tiny  hands 
had  just  erected,  a  few  yards  away.  The  child  had 
a  fat,  stupid  face  which  was  shaded  by  a  big,  costly- 
looking  hat,  along  whose  brim  coiled  a  fashionable 
white  plume.  Every  other  detail  of  her  dress  im 
plied  wealthy  parentage.  Her  little  form  exhaled 
a  soft  perfume,  as  of  violets.  She  looked  up  into 
Claire's  face  with  dull,  unintelligent  eyes,  but  with 
a  droll  assumption  of  intimacy,  while  chattering  her 
fluent  nonsense  regarding  the  product  of  her  recent 
sportive  toil.  Claire  was  not  prepossessed,  but  at 
the  same  time  she  took  the  little  creature's  hand  very 
socially,  and  listened  to  her  brisk  confidences  with 
amiable  heed. 

But  a  French  bonne,  in  a  fluted  cap,  suddenly  ap 
peared  upon  the  scene,  and  cut  short  the  child's  fur 
ther  overtures  of  friendship  by  drawing  her  away 


220  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

with  swift  force  and  a  gust  of  voluble  French  repri 
mand.  The  child  broke  into  peevish  screams,  and 
was  at  once  lifted  by  the  strong  arms  of  the  bonne, 
just  as  a  lady  abruptly  joined  them.  The  lady  shook 
her  forefinger  at  the  child,  while  she  was  being  borne 
away  with  passionate  clamor. 

"  Tu  as  6t6  tres  me'chante,"  exclaimed  the  new- 
r  coiner,  remaining  stationary,  but  following  with  a 
]  turn  of  the  head  and  unrelaxed  finger  this  tragic  de 
parture.  "  Nous  avions  peur  que  tu  ne  f us  tombee 
dans  la  mer.  Tais-toi,  Louise,  et  sois  bon  enfant !  " 

Distance  soon  drowned  the  lamentations  of  little 
Louise,  and  the  lady  now  addressed  herself  to  Claire. 

"  I  hope  my  bad  little  girl  has  n't  been  troubling 
you,"  she  said.  "It  is  really  the  nurse's  fault  that 
she  strayed  away  in  this  wild  style.  Aline  is  hor 
ridly  careless.  I  've  already  discharged  her,  and  that 
makes  her  more  so.  Last  week  at  Newport  the  poor 
child  nearly  fell  over  the  cliffs  because  of  that  wo 
man's  outrageous  neglect." 

"  Your  little  girl  was  in  no  danger  here,  I  think," 
said  Claire,  smiling. 

"  Oh,  no ;  of  course  not,"  returned  the  lady.  She 
gave  Claire  a  direct,  scanning  look,  and  then  dropped 
upon  the  bench  beside  her.  "  Coney  Island  is  very 
different  from  Newport.  We  had  a  cottage  there  all 
summer.  Do  you  know  Newport  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Claire.  "It  is  a  very  delightful  place, 
is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,"  returned  the  lady,  with  a  covert  dis 
sent  in  her  admission.  "  It 's  nice,  but  it 's  awfully 
stiff." 

"  Do  you  mean  ceremonious  ?  "  asked  Claire. 

"  Yes.     I  got  frightfully  tired  of  it.     I  always  do. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  221 

My  husband  likes  it,  and  so  I  go  on  his  account.  I  'd 
much  rather  go  to  Narragansett  or  Mount  Desert. 
They  're  more  like  real  country,  don't  you  know  ? 
You  have  n't  got  to  button  your  gloves  all  the  lime, 
and  pose  your  parasol.  You  're  not  bothered  with 
thinking  whom  you  shall  know  and  whom  you 
shan't.  You  can  let  yourself  loose.  I  love  to  let  my 
self  loose.  But  you  can't  do  it  in  Newport.  Every 
body  there  is  on  a  kind  of  high  horse.  Now  I  like 
to  come  down,  once  in  a  while,  and  ride  a  pony." 

The  lady  gave  a  shrill,  short  laugh  as  she  ended 
these  words.  Claire  had  already  noted  all  her  per 
sonal  details.  She  was  tall  of  figure  and  extremely 
slender.  She  had  a  sharp-cut  face  which  would  have 
gained  by  not  being  of  so  chill  a  pallor.  Her  black 
eyes  were  full  of  restless  brilliancy  ;  her  lips  were 
thin,  and  marked  at  their  rims  by  a  narrow  bluish 
line.  She  carried  herself  with  an  air  of  importance, 
but  her  manner  was  very  far  from  the  least  super 
cilious  display.  She  promptly  impressed  you  as  a 
woman  whose  general  definition  was  a  democratic 
one,  though  aristocracy  might  also  be  among  her 
minor  meanings.  She  had  no  claims  to  beauty  ;  she 
was  too  meagre  in  point  of  flesh,  too  severe  in  gen 
eral  contour,  too  acute  in  her  angles.  She  lacked  all 
the  charm  of  feminine  curves  ;  she  was  a  living  con 
spiracy  of  straight  lines.  You  could  not  closely  ob 
serve  her  without  remarking  the  saliency  of  her 
joints;  she  seemed  put  together  on  a  plan  of  cruel 
keenness.  At  the  same  time,  her  motions  were  not 
awkward;  she  managed  her  rectilinear  body  with  a 
surprising  ease  and  pliancy.  Her  health  appeared 
excellent,  notwithstanding  IKT  slim  frame  and  chalky 
color.  The  warmth,  sp^.J,  and  geniality  of  her 


jf.V  A 

•     rr:L    ---  .  "->.      '        ;: 


se     a      ooce  or  iiree 

j  -     f         *    « 

_                                 ...                    .                  ..  "     .     ~  .  _  .  - 

".    .       .    _ 


.- 


•e-  nt  see 


^rn  part, 
ibev  are 


ii-*«  lii-rse  exisi.  ' 
arprlsfri   i.T  a  monient. 
-     - .       -     : 
relrv.     Claire  bad  used 

:        ;Ir:  :  "  .      .. 


.  . .  .  . .  :  -    .    -.: 


AIT  AMBITIOUS  WOMAX. 


:.•;  '--  ~-:~r~.  >:- 
don't  jou  know, 
«.  and  all  thai." 


far  up  either  sharp  arm.     **  Well,**  she  soddenly  re- 

:  :     i-    ..  -  -    .    ••  -    .....       -    •    -    .  -  _  -"    "  -    -  .  -  -.-    —'.    -    :   : 


::.  :  ~  :„  .>:  :  :.  A  '.  :.  ••:'..:...-  £  .  .  : 
deroie-i  t-o  it.  TL^ey  look  on  roe  as  a  kini  <>f  black 
sbeetx  don't  voa  kno-w?  Thr'T  siiv  I'm  alwiTS  gi^ 
iu?  inio  the  faisrhiraTS  and  beii^es  to  pick  np  iny 
friends.  B^:  I  d^n't"  mind  theoT:  I  laa^  «  theni. 
They  're  hoe  now  in  full  fonse.  There  are  two  of 
the  Hackensaeks.  and  frw-o  of  tiie  Van  Corlears.  and 


I  married.     I  *m  Mrs.  Manhattan  D  ^ 

'     --r    '•.-.:':   :.--    "       -        . .  -       -  - : 
:'.::.        .:- .     ::.;.-     :        I    -  -• . :     :"v 
irav.  and  who  "s  lie  dearest  in  all  Cbr 
ap;?roT^5  of  i££   as  ccBcb  a.>  HIT  relap 

:    r:   .':.. •..-.-  ;  :         .   '_.    '.    "_. 

said  soeierv  in    New  Y;rk  ^as  all   tr 


him.      fiigp?-,  yoa  know.     Is  n't  it  frightful  ?      His 

:      ::  .:  ""..-  .,  "  .  .        ::       —  :  :'      .  .--_:. 

: - -.-         .:::        .       .  .     -    :  —          '.'.    _    -_- 

man  aith  a  fortoBe.  If  b?  bad  n't  iw«n  rich  I'd 
have  pjried  my  poor  hi3>baud.  He'd  nr-v«r  have 
mjuie  ads"  I  te~^  im  tbsi  &11  be  <tsn  d  ~>  is  10  sit 

cards.    But  he 's  ;-^si  as  iovelr  to  me  as  he  can  be, 


224  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

so  I  don't  mind.  I  worship  him,  and  he  worships 
me,  so  we  get  on  splendidly  together,  of  course.  .  .  . 
And  now  I  've  told  you  my  name,  you  must  tell  me 
yours.  I  hope  it 's  prettier  than  mine.  It  ought  to 
be,  you  're  so  immensely  pretty  yourself." 

"  My  name  is  Mrs.  Hollister,"  said  Claire.  "Mrs. 
Herbert  Hollister.  I  have  been  married  only  a  few 
weeks." 

"  A  bride !  Really  ?  How  delightful !  Do  you 
actually  mean  it  ?  I  dote  on  brides.  I  'm  sure  we 
shall  be  friends." 

They  rapidly  became  so.  Claire  was  by  no  means 
averse  to  the  arrangement.  Mrs.  Diggs  was  violent, 
explosive,  precipitate,  but  she  was  not  vulgar.  Be 
sides,  her  roots,  so  to  speak,  were  in  the  soil  that 
Claire  liked.  They  lunched  together  that  day  at 
one  of  the  little  tables  in  the  vast,  airy  dining-room. 
While  they  were  seated  at  the  meal,  several  of  the 
elegant  ladies  passed  on  their  way  toward  other 
tables.  Mrs.  Diggs  nodded  to  each  of  them  famil 
iarly,  and  her  nods  were  distinctly  returned.  Claire 
took  special  note  of  this  latter  point. 

"  Your  relations  will  think  you  have  deserted 
them,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Diggs  laughed.  "  They  think  I  'm  always 
deserting  them,"  she  exclaimed.  "I  don't  believe 
my  absence  is  a  great  affliction ;  they  manage  to  en 
dure  it.  ...  Oh,  by  the  way,  here  comes  Cousin 
Cornelia  Van  Horn.  She  must  have  arrived  to-day. 
Excuse  me  for  a  moment.  I  '11  have  to  go  and  speak 
to  her." 

Mrs.  Diggs  hastily  rose  and  went  toward  a  lady 
who  was  herself  in  act  of  crossing  the  room,  but  who 
paused  on  seeing  her  approach.  The  meeting  took 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  225 

place  not  far  from  where  Claire  was  seated.  She  saw 
Mrs.  Diggs  give  her  kinswoman  a  kiss  on  each  cheek 
like  the  quick  peck  of  a  bird.  They  were  cheeks 
that  time  had  faded  a  little,  but  the  face  to  which 
they  belonged  had  a  haughty  loveliness  all  its  own. 
At  least  five-and-thirty  years  had  rounded  her  figure 
into  soft  exuberance,  mellowing  but  scarcely  marring 
its  past  harmonies.  She  was  very  blonde ;  her  eye 
brows,  each  a  perfect  arch,  and  the  plenteous  hair 
worn  in  a  dry,  crisp  matwork  low  over  her  white 
forehead,  were  just  saved  from  too  pale  a  flaxen  by 
the  least  yellow  tinge.  Her  features  were  cut  like 
those  of  a  cameo,  but  they  were  too  small  and  too 
near  together  for  positive  beauty,  while  her  eyelids 
had  too  deep  a  droop,  and  her  nose,  by  nature  lifted 
too  high  at  the  extreme  tip,  lost  nothing  of  the  pride, 
even  the  arrogance  it  bespoke,  from  the  exquisite 
poise  of  her  head  above  a  long  throat  and  sloping 
shoulders.  Claire  decided  that  she  had  never  seen  a 
woman  so  stately  and  yet  so  lightsome,  or  one  who 
could  so  clearly  suggest  the  serenity  and  repose  of 
great  self-esteem  without  thrusting  its  offensive  scorn 
into  harsh  evidence. 

Mrs.  Diggs  remained  with  her  new  companion 
several  minutes.  Her  severe  back,  in  all  its  rather 
trying  outlines,  was  presented  to  Claire  during  this 
interval,  though  once  she  slightly  turned,  making  a 
little  gesture  with  her  bony  hand  that  seemed  to  in 
dicate  either  the  table  she  had  just  quitted  or  the 
figure  still  seated  there.  And  soon  afterward  Claire 
saw  that  the  person  whom  she  had  heard  named  by 
Mrs.  Diggs  was  looking  steadily  at  her  with  a  pair  of 
cold,  light-blue  eyes.  While  she  returned  this  look 
it  struck  her  that  a  change  of  color  touched  the 

15 


226  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

placid  face  of  her  observer,  though  the  flush  from 
faint  pink  into  pink  only  by  a  shade  less  dim  might 
easily  have  passed  for  a  trick  of  deceptive  fancy. 

Mrs.  Diggs  presently  came  trotting  back  to  the 
table,  with  her  odd  combination  of  graceful  movement 
and  bodily  sharpness. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Hollister,"  she  began,  while  seat 
ing  herself,  "  do  you  know  that  Cousin  Cornelia 
knows  all  about  you  ?  I  happened  to  mention  your 
name  before  you  were  married  —  Miss  Twining, 
was  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Claire. 

"  Well,  the  name  seemed  to  strike  her,  and  she  at 
once  asked  if  you  had  not  stayed  quite  a  long  time 
with  Mrs.  .  .  .  Mrs.  .  .  .  Oh,  you  mentioned  her 
when  you  spoke  of  being  here  several  weeks  before 
your  marriage." 

"  Mrs.  Bergemann,"  said  Claire,  and  immediately 
added,  in  tones  full  of  quiet  interest :  "  Well,  Mrs. 
Diggs?" 

"  Why,  that  was  what  placed  you,  don't  you  know, 
with  Cousin  Cornelia.  Yes,  Mrs.  Bergemann  ;  that 
was  the  name." 

"  Did  your  cousin  know  Mrs.  Bergemann  ?  "  in 
quired  Claire. 

"  She  did  n't  say  so.  But  she  appeared  to  know 
just  who  you  were.  I  think  she  's  going  to  make  me 
present  you.  There  seems  to  be  some  queer  mystery. 
She  acted  rather  strangely.  Are  you  sure  you  've 
never  met  before?" 

"Yes,  I  am  perfectly  sure,"  answered  Claire. 
"  Did  you  not  say  that  the  lady's  name  was  Van 
Horn  ?  " 

"Cousin  Cornelia's?     Why,  yes;  of  course  it  is. 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  227 

She 's  my  second  cousin.  She  's  related  on  the  Van 
Kortlandt  side.  She  was  a  Miss  Tlmrston." 

"  Thurston,"  repeated  Claire,  not  interrogatively, 
but  as  though  she  had  caught  the  sound  with  rec 
ognition  the  instant  it  left  the  speaker's  lips.  She 
broke  into  a  smile,  now.  "  That  explains  every 
thing.  She  is  a  sister  of  Mr.  Beverley  Thurston,  is 
she  not  ?  " 

"  Cousin  Beverley  ?  Of  course  she  is.  Do  you 
know  him  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Claire.     "  I  knew-hira  very  well." 

"Why,  you  don't  tell  me  so!  "  blithely  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Diggs.  "  I  dote  on  Beverley.  I  suppose  he 
thinks  me  dreadful,  but  I  dote  on  him,  just  the  same. 
He  is  so  broad,  don't  you  know  ?  He 's  seen  so 
much,  and  read  so  much,  and  lived  so  much,  gener 
ally.  And  with  it  all  he  's  so  conventional.  That 
is  the  way  I  like  conventionality —  when  you  find  it 
in  some  one  who  makes  it  a  sort  of  fatigue-dress  for 
liberal  views,  and  not  the  uniform  of  narrow  ones." 

"  I  approve  your  description  of  Mr.  Thurston," 
said  Claire,  slowly.  "  It  tells  me  how  well  you  know 
him." 

Mrs.  Diggs  creased  her  forehead  in  puzzled  style, 
and  bent  her  face  closer  toward  Claire's.  "  What  on 
earth  do  you  suppose  it  was  that  made  him  dart  off 
so  suddenly  to  Europe?"  she  asked. 

Claire  stooped,  as  though  to  discover  some  kind  of 
objectionable  speck  in  the  cup  of  chocolate  that  she 
was  stirring,  and  then  removed  what  she  had  found, 
with  much  apparent  care.  "  He  did  go  quite  unex 
pectedly,  did  he  not  ?  "  she  said,  lowering  her  head 
still  more  as  she  put  the  speck  on  her  saucer  and  ex 
amined  it  with  an  excellent  counterfeit  of  the  way 


228  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

we  regard  such  things  when  uncertain  if  their  origin 
be  animal  or  vegetable.  She  wondered  to  herself,  at 
the  same  time,  whether  Mrs.  Diggs  would  notice  her 
increased  color,  or  whether  she  herself  had  merely 
imagined  that  her  color  had  undergone  any  sort  of 
change.  "  At  some  other  time,"  she  went  on,  letting 
the  words  loiter  in  utterance,  with  a  very  neat  simu 
lation  of  preoccupied  attention  .  .  .  "at  some  other 
time,  Mrs.  Diggs,  I  should  like  to  talk  more  with  you 
about  Mrs.  Van  Horn's  brother.  But  just  now  I 
want  to  ask  you  about  Mrs.  Van  Horn  herself." 

Here  Claire  briskly  raised  her  head.  The  problem 
of  the  aggressive  speck  had  seemingly  been  solved. 
"  I  have  heard  Mr.  Thurston  mention  that  he  had 
a  sister  of  that  name,"  she  continued,  now  speaking 
with  speed,  "  but  he  told  me  almost  nothing  regard 
ing  hur.  She  appears  to  be  a  very  important  per 
son." 

Mrs.  Diggs  glanced  toward  a  distant  table  at  which 
she  had  already  seen  her  cousin  seat  herself.  Then 
she  turned  to  Claire  again,  as  though  confident  of 
how  safely  remote  was  the  lady  whom  she  at  once 
proceeded  to  discuss. 

"  Cornelia  is  a  very  important  person,  Mrs.  Hoi- 
lister.  As  I  told  you,  she's  my  second  cousin.  I 
used  to  see  n  good  deal  of  her  before  I  was  mar 
ried.  She  's  at  least  ten  years  older  than  I  am.  She 
brought  me  out  into  society.  I  was  an  orphan,  don't 
you  know,  and  there  was  nobody  else  to  bring  me 
out.  I  had  to  be  brought  out,  for  I  was  eighteen, 
and  all  the  rest  of  the  family  were  either  in  mourn 
ing,  or  were  too  old,  or  else  had  gone  to  Europe,  or 
.  .  .  well,  something  of  that  sort.  So  Cornelia  gave 
me  a  great  ball.  It  was  splendidly  civil  of  her.  But 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  229 

I  don't  think  she  did  it  from  the  least  benevolence. 
No,  not  at  all.  She  had  ended  her  term  of  widow 
hood,  and  wanted  to  appear  again,  don't  you  know  ? 
The  ball  was  magnificent,  and  it  gathered  all  her  old 
clientele  about  her.  I  remember  it  so  well ;  it  is 
only  eight  years  ago.  I  stood  at  her  side,  behind  a 
towering  burden  of  bouquets  which  it  made  my  wrist 
ache  to  hold.  Cornelia  was  in  white  satin,  with 
knots  of  violets  all  over  her  dress.  I  shall  never 
forget  that  dress.  She  wore  amethysts  round  her 
throat,  and  in  her  hair,  and  on  her  arms.  It  was  a 
kind  of  jubilant  second-mourning,  don't  you  know  ? 
She  looked  superb ;  she  was  eight  years  younger 
than  she  is  now.  People  gathered  about  her  and 
paid  their  court.  She  resumed  old  acquaintances  ; 
she  received  open  or  whispered  compliments ;  she 
was  the  event  of  the  evening.  I  was  nearly  ignored. 
And  yet  it  was  my  ball ;  it  had  been  given  for  me, 
to  celebrate  my  debut  in  society.  But  as  the  even 
ing  progressed  I  began  to  discover  that  I  had  been 
made  a  mere  pretext.  Cornelia  herself  was  the  real 
reason  of  the  ball.  She  had  simply  used  me  as  an 
excuse  for  reemerging.  She  reemerged,  by  the  way, 
with  seventy  thousand  a  year,  and  a  reputation  for 
having  been  one  of  the  reigning  belles  of  New  York 
before  she  married  Winthrop  Van  Horn.  She  was 
poor  when  she  married  Winthrop,  and  he  lived  only 
a  few  years  afterward.  He  left  her  every  penny  of 
his  money  ;  there  were  no  children.  Cornelia  was  a 
devoted  wife  ;  at  least,  I  never  heard  it  contradicted, 
and  I  've  somehow  always  accepted  it.  I  think 
everybody  has  always  accepted  it,  too.  He  died  of 
consumption  in  Bermuda,  and  it  is  usually  taken  for 
granted,  don't  you  know,  that  he  died  in  Cornelia's 


230  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

arms.  For  ray  part,  I  can't  imagine  anybody  dying 
in  Cornelia's  arms.  .  .  .  But  that 's  neither  here  nor 
there.  She  kept  herself  as  quiet  as  a  mouse  for  five 
years.  But  mice  are  nomadic,  and  they  gnaw  every 
thing.  And  Cornelia,  during  those  five  years  of 
bereaved  woe,  to  my  certain  knowledge,  took  a  peep 
at  every  capital  in  Europe.  After  the  ball — the 
ball  that  she  gave  me,  please  understand  —  she  be 
came  a  great  leader.  She 's  a  great  leader  still. 
Did  n't  Beverley  tell  you  that,  Mrs.  Hollister  ?  " 

"No,"  stated  Claire,  keenly  interested  by  this  nim 
ble  monologue.  "As  I  said,  Mr.  Thurston  scarcely 
did  more  than  mention  his  sister's  name." 

Mrs.  Diggs  applied  herself  actively  to  a  fragment 
of  cold  chicken,  which  she  had  left  neglected  through 
all  these  elucidating  items.  Claire  watched  her, 
thinking  how  clever  she  was  and  yet  how  uncircum- 
spect.  With  what  slight  incentive  had  been  roused 
this  actual  whirlwind  of  family  confidences  ! 

"  She  perfectly  adores  Beverley,"  Mrs.  Diggs  pres 
ently  continued.  "  I  have  an  idea  that  she  does  so 
because  he  's  a  Thurston  —  or  rather  because  she  's 
one.  She  has  contrived  to  make  it  appear  very  excep 
tional  to  be  a  Thurston.  The  Thurstons  have  never 
been  anything  whatever.  Her  mother  married  into 
the  family,  and  cast  a  spell  of  aristocracy  over  them. 
But  Cornelia  never  alludes  to  the  Van  Kortlandt  con 
nection.  She  knows  that  can  take  care  of  itself.  I 
believe  her  grandfather,  on  the  other  side,  was  a  sad 
dler.  But  she  has  managed  to  have  it  seriously  dis 
puted  whether  he  was  a  saddler  or  a  landed  Knicker 
bocker  grandee.  The  panels  of  her  carriage  bear  a 
Thurston  crest.  It  is  a  very  pretty  one  ;  I  am  quite 
sure  she  invented  it.  I  once  told  Beverley  so,  and 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  231 

he  laughed.  He  has  never  used  it,  though  he  has 
never  denounced  it  as  spurious.  The  joke  is  that 
she  ignores  the  Van  Horn  crest  entirely,  which  is  the 
only  one  she  has  any  right  to  air.  Cornelia  is  a 
great  leader,  as  I  said.  She  has  Thursday  evenings 
in  the  big  old  house  on  Washington  Square  which 
her  late  husband  left  her.  Lots  of  people  have  strug 
gled  to  go  to  Cornelia's  Thursdays,  and  not  gone, 
after  all.  It's  absolutely  funny  to  observe  what  a 
vogue  she  has  got.  She  could  make  anybody  whom 
she  chose  to  take  up  a  social  somebody  by  merely 
lifting  her  finger.  But  she  never  lifts  her  finger. 
That  is  why  she  is  so  run  after.  You  can't  get  her 
to  use  the  power  she  possesses.  It  yearly  grows 
more  of  a  power,  don't  you  know,  on  this  very  ac 
count.  It 's  like  a  big  deposit  in  a  bank,  that  gets 
bigger  through  lying  there  untouched.  She  won't 
spend  a  penny  ;  she  lets  it  grow.  The  women  of 
New  York  are  becoming  a  good  deal  less  flippant, 
some  of  them,  than  they  used  to  be.  Clubs  and  re 
ceptions  have  come  into  fashion,  where  intellectual 
matters  are  seriously,  even  capably  discussed.  Some 
body  will  read  a  paper  on  something  sensible  and  lit 
erary,  and  a  little  debate  will  follow.  At  one  of 
these  clubs  —  composed  strictly  of  women  —  it  is  for 
bidden  to  mention  the  last  ball,  though  this  may  have 
occurred  on  the  preceding  night  and  everybody  may 
have  seen  everybody  else  there,  talking  the  usual  gay 
nonsense.  The  whole  thing  is  a  kind  of  '  movement,' 
don't  you  know  ?  It 's  very  picturesque  and  it 's  ex 
tremely  in  earnest.  It  makes  one  think  a  little  of 
the  old  historical  French  salons.  It  has  laid  bare 
some  charming  and  surprising  discoveries.  It  has 
shown  how  many  women,  have  been  reading  and 


232  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

thinking  in  secret,  during  those  long  intervals  of 
leisure  that  have  occurred  between  their  opportuni 
ties  for  being  publicly  silly,  inane,  flirtatious,  and 
hence  of  correct  form.  On  the  other  hand  it  has  led 
certain  women  to  cultivate  their  minds  as  they  would 
a  new  style  of  dressing  their  hair.  All  that  we  used 
to  satirize  in  former  entertainments  of  this  kind  fails 
to  exist  in  those  I  am  describing.  Pipe-stem  curls 
and  blue  spectacles  are  replaced  by  the  most  Parisian 
felicities  of  costume.  A  delightful-looking  creature 
in  a  Worth  dress  that  fits  her  like  a  glove  will  give 
us  her  'views'  on  the  Irish  land- question  or  the 
persecution  of  the  Jews  in  Russia.  .  .  .  And  now  I 
come  to  the  real  object  of  my  digression,  as  the  long- 
winded  orators  say.  Cornelia  Van  Horn  frowns  upon 
all  this.  She  has  gathered  about  her  a  little  faction, 
too,  which  frowns  obediently  in  her  defense.  You 
must  not  fancy  for  a  moment  that  Cornelia  could  not 
shine  in  these  assemblies  if  she  chose  to  favor  them. 
She  has  brains  enough  to  <m£shine  nearly  all  their 
supporters.  But  she  condemns  the  intellectual  ten 
dency  in  women  when  thus  openly  exhibited.  If 
they  want  to  read  and  think,  they  should  do  it  in 
the  quiet  of  their  closets,  and  in  the  same  way  that 
they  write  their  letters,  or  glance  over  their  accounts, 
or  distribute  their  household  orders.  There  is  no  ob 
jection  to  philosophy,  science,  belles-lettres,  so  long 
as  these  are  not  made  to  interfere  with  the  general 
dignified  commonplace  of  the  higher  social  life.  To 
be  individual,  argumentative,  reformatory,  is  to  be 
professional.  To  be  professional  is  not  to  be  '  good 
form.'  The  moment  that  a  drawing-room  is  made 
to  resemble  a  lecture-room  or  a  seminary  it  becomes 
odious  from  a  patriciau  stand -point.  Only  queens 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  233 

and  duchesses  can  afford  to  paint  pictures  or  to  write 
books,  without  loss  of  caste.  A  consistent  aristocracy 
never  discovers  new  ideas  ;  it  accepts  old  ones.  Agi 
tators  are  the  enemies  of  repose,  and  repose  is  the 
soul  of  refinement." 

Here  Mrs.  Diggs  gave  a  gleeful  trill  of  laughter 
that  made  Claire  compare  it  to  her  mind  as  well  as 
her  person  ;  it  was  so  clear  and  sharp.  "  Oh,  you 
can't  imagine,"  she  went  on,  "  how  radical  Cornelia 
is  in  her  positively  feudal  conservatisms.  I  'm  so 
liberal,  don't  you  know,  that  I  can  appreciate  her 
narrowness.  I  relish  it  as  one  does  a  delicious  joke. 
But  it  "s  a  very  curious  sort  of  bigotry.  There 's 
nothing  in  the  least  spontaneous  about  it.  I  've  a 
conviction  that  she  sweeps  her  eye  more  widely  over 
this  fine  Nineteenth  Century  than  any  of  the  ladies 
I  've  been  telling  you  about.  She  has  seen  that  she 
can  only  reign  on  one  kind  of  a  throne,  and  she 
sticks  there.  And  I  assure  you,  there  is  n't  the  least 
doubt  that  she  reigns  in  good  earnest.  .  .  .  I  'm  sur 
prised  that  Beverley  Thurston  didn't  tell  you  about 
her.  Beverley  has  got  her  measure  so  exactly.  He 

»/  •/ 

thinks  mo  dreadful,  as  I  said,  but  lie  's  fond  of  me. 
I  'm  sure  we  always  amuse  each  other." 

"  No,"  said  Claire,  shaking  her  head  slowly,  "  he 
was  very  reticent  on  that  subject.  Perhaps  he 
thought  I  mi^ht  want  to  know  her  if  he  painted  her 

O  O  1 

portrait  as  you  have  done.  That  would  have  been 
awkward  for  him,  provided  his  sister  had  declined 
nay  acquaintance.  And  I  dare  say  she  would  have 
declined  it,  as  I  was  not  in  her  exclusive  circle." 

Mrs.  Diggs  put  her  head  a  little  on  one  side.  She 
was  looking  at  Claire  intently.  A  smile  played  like 
a  faint  flicker  of  light  on  her  thin  lips,  whose  two 
bluish  lines  always  kept  the  same  tinge. 


234  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"Why  are  you  so  candid  with  me?  "  she  asked. 

"  Candid  ?  "  repeated  Claire. 

"  Yes.  Why  do  you  show  me  that  you  would  like 
to  know  Cornelia  Van  Horn  ?  " 

"  Why  ?  "  still  repeated  Claire.  "  Did  I  show  you 
that  ?  " 

"  Not  openly — not  in  so  many  words,  don't  you 
know?  But  I  imagine  it." 

"  You  are  very  quick  at  imagining,"  said  Claire, 
with  a  little  playful  toss  of  the  head.  "  Well,  if  you 
choose,  I  should  like  to  know  her.  I  should  like  to 
know  any  one  who  ranks  herself  high,  like  that,  and 
has  a  recognized  claim.  I  have  a  fellow-feeling  for 
ambitious  people.  I  'in  ambitious  myself." 

Mrs.  Diggs  seemed  deeply  amused.  She  lifted  a 
forefinger,  and  shook  it  at  Claire. 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  're  very  ambitious,"  she  said. 

*'  Well,  I  am,"  admitted  Claire,  not  knowing  how 
much  rosy  and  dimpled  charm  her  face  had  got  while 
she  spoke  the  words.  "  I  am  quite  willing  to  con 
cede  that  I  have  aims,  projects,  intentions." 

Mrs.  Diggs  threw  back  her  head,  and  laughed 
noisily.  But  she  lowered  her  voice  to  a  key  much 
graver  than  her  laugh,  as  she  said  :  — 

"  You  're  as  clever  as  Cornelia,  in  your  way.  Yes, 
you  are.  I  should  n't  be  surprised  if  you  were  a  good 
deal  cleverer,  too.  I  suspect  there  's  a  nice  stock  of 
discreet  reserve  under  your  candor." 

Claire  creased  her  brows  in  a  slightly  piqued  man 
ner.  "  That  is  not  very  pleasant  to  hear,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Diggs  stretched  out  her  hand  across  the  table 
so  pointedly  and  cordially  that  Claire  felt  forced  to 
take  it. 

"  I  like  you.  You  interest  me.  Forgive  me  if 
I  've  annoyed  you." 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  235 

"You  haven't  annoyed  me,"  was  Claire's  reply. 
"  I   want  to  see  those  aims,   projects,    intentions," 
Mrs.    Diggs   continued,  still   holding  her  hand,  and 

C*w  O 

warmly  pressing  it  besides.  "  Yes,  I  want  to  see  you 
exploiter  them  —  carry  them  out.  You  shall  do  it,  if 
I  can  help  you.  And  you  will  let  me  help  you,  I 
hope  ?  You  won't  think  me  disagreeably  patroniz 
ing,  will  you  ?  I  only  speak  in  this  way  because 
I  've  taken  a  desperate  fancy  to  you." 

"•  Thanks,"  said  Claire.     Her  eyes  were  sparkling; 
her  heart  was  beating  quickly. 


XIV. 

WHEN  Hollister  returned  that  evening,  almost  the 
first  words  that  Claire  spoke  to  him  were :  "  Con 
gratulate  me,  Herbert.  I  have  taken  a  fine  forward 
step  at  last." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  my  dear  ?  " 

"  I  have  got  to  know  somebody  of  importance.  I 
have  launched  my  ship." 

"  Oho,"  laughed  Hollister,  understanding.  "  I 
hope  the  ship  will  prove  seaworthy,  little  captain. 
You  must  steer  with  a  prudent  eye,  remember.  All 
sorts  of  squalls  will  lie  in  wait  for  your  canvas,  no 
matter  how  well  you  trim  it." 

"  That  is  just  the  kind  of  sailing  I  like,"  said 
Claire.  "  I  've  been  becalmed  long  enough.^' 

He  laughed  at  this,  in  his  hearty  way,  as  though 
it  were  quite  a  marvel  of  wit.  "  Come  and  tell  me," 
he  proposed,  "  about  the  important  somebody  who 
has  been  sensible  enough  to  discover  you." 

They  were  alone  together,  in  their  wide,  cheerful 
apartment,  overlooking  the  ocean.  They  were  about 
to  go  down  and  dine,  and  Hollister  had  just  finished 
a  few  preparatory  details  of  toilet.  Lights  had  been 
lit,  for  the  rapid  autumn  dusk  had  already  thickened 
into  nightfall ;  but  though  they  could  not  see  the 
starlit  level  of  waters  just  beyond  their  windows, 
they  had  a  sense  of  its  nearness  in  the  moist,  salty 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  237 

breeze,  whose  tender  rush  made  tlie  drawn  shades 
bulge,  and  set  the  loose  lawn  curtains  fluttering  buoy 
antly. 

Hollister  sank  into  a  chair  as  he  spoke  the  last 
sentence,  and  at  the  same  time  put  an  arm  about  his 
wife's  waist,  drawing  her  downward  until  she  rested 
upon  his  knee.  The  roses  at  her  bosom  brushed  his 
face,  and  he  thrust  his  head  forward  with  a  sigh  of 
comic  infatuation,  as  though  rapturously  inhaling 
their  perfume.  But  his  free  hand  soon  wandered 
up  along  the  chestnut  ripples  of  her  hair,  and  he  be 
gan  to  smooth  them,  with  a  touch  creditably  dainty 
for  his  heavy  masculine  fingers. 

Claire  permitted  his  caresses.  She  always  permit 
ted,  and  never  returned  them.  He  had  slight  sense 
that  this  was  a  coldly  unreciprocal  course ;  it  ap 
peared  to  fit  in  neatly  enough  with  the  general  plan 
of  creation  that  she  should  receive  homage  of  any  sort 
without  further  response  than  its  mute  recognition. 
That  was  the  way  he  had  constantly  known  her  to 
act,  or  rather  not  to  act ;  a  change  would  have  sur 
prised,  perhaps  even  shocked  him  ;  she  would  have 
ceased  to  be  his  peculiar,  accustomed  Claire ;  his  re 
vered  statue  would  have  lost  her  pedestal,  and  he 
had  grown  to  like  the  pedestal  for  no  wiser  reason 
than  that  he  had  always  seen  it  enthrone  her. 

"I  will  tell  you  all  about  my  discoverer,"  Claire 
said,  with  matter-of-fact  directness  ;  and  she  at  once 
began  a  swift  and  succinct  little  narration. 

"  Diggs,"  Hollister  suddenly  broke  in,  with  one 
of  his  fresh  laughs.  "  Oh,  look  here,  now  ;  you  've 
made  some  big  mistake.  She  can't  be  one  of  your 
adored  swells,  with  such  a  name.  It's  —  it's  .  .  . 
cacophonous,  positively !  " 


238  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  Wait,  if  you  please,"  said  Claire,  with  demure 
toleration,  as  though  a  bulwark  of  proof  made  this 
skeptic  assault  endurable.  "  Her  husband's  name,  in 
the  first  place,  is  not  simply  Diggs ;  it's  Manhattan 
Diggs."  She  made  this  announcement  with  an  air 
of  tranquil  triumph  ;  but  Hollister  at  once  gave  an 
other  irreverent  laugh. 

"  Oh,  of  course  !  "  he  cried.  "  I  remember,  now. 
I  know  him.  That  is,  I  nod  to  him  on  the  street, 
now  and  then.  Is  he  here  ?  Why,  he  's  nearly  al 
ways  tipsy,  you  know." 

"  Tipsy  ! "  repeated  Claire,  rising  with  an  incred 
ulous  look.  u  Oh,  Herbert,  you  must  be  mistaken. 
She  worships  him.  She  says  that  he  treats  her 
charmingly,  and  that  they  get  on  together  with  per 
fect  accord." 

"It  would  be  rather  strange  to  find  two  of  that 
name  even  in  such  a  great  place  as  New  York,"  said 
Hollister,  with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  "I 
don't  believe  I  am  mistaken  a  bit,  Claire.  He's  a 
tall  man,  with  fat  yellow  side-whiskers  and  a  face 
as  red  as  your  roses.  He  's  got  a  lot  of  money,  I  'in 
told.  He  goes  down  into  the  street,  and  dawdles  an 
hour  or  so  a  day  at  his  broker's.  But  I  've  never 
seen  him  thoroughly  sober  yet.  Upon  my  word,  I 
have  n't." 

Claire  soon  met  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Diggs.  It 
was  after  dinner,  in  one  of  the  spacious,  modern-ap 
pointed  sitting-rooms,  now  so  often  half-vacant  of  oc 
cupants,  or  sometimes  wholly  vacant,  through  these 
lengthened  September  evenings. 

"I  want  to  present  my  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Diggs, 
preceding  a  tall  man  with  fat  yellow  side-whiskers, 
whom  Hollister  had  before  this  recognized  across  the 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  239 

dining-room  as  his  own  particular,  chronically  tipsy 
Mr.  Diggs,  beyond  all  possibility  of  mistake. 

Claire  had  a  little  chat  with  Mr.  Diggs,  while 
Hollister,  who  had  claimed  acquaintance  and  shaken 
hands  with  him,  seated  himself  at  the  side  of  his 
volatile  spouse. 

Claire  soon  became  bored.  Mr.  Diggs  was  plainly 
tipsy  ;  Herbert  had  been  right.  But  lie  was  most 
uninterestingly  tipsy.  He  had  sense  enough  remain 
ing  to  conduct  himself  with  a  sort  of  haphazard  pro 
priety.  He  incessantly  stroked  either  one  or  the 
other  whisker,  and  kept  up  a  perpetual  covert  strug 
gle  not  to  appear  incoherent.  He  was  at  times  con 
siderably  incoherent ;  a  few  of  his  sentences  made 
the  nominative  seem  as  if  it  were  swaggering  toward 
its  verb.  But  he  was  vastly  polite.  He  told  Claire 
that  his  wife  had  fallen  in  love  with  her.  A  little 
later,  however,  he  spoke  of  his  wife  with  a  certain 
jolly  disparagement. 

"  Kate  is  full  of  a  lot  of  new  things.  I  don't 
know  what  I'm  going  to  do  with  her  —  really,  I 
don't.  She  '11  be  a  regular  free  -  thinker  before  I 
know  it.  And  I  don't  like  free-thinkers ;  I  think 
they  're  a  sad  lot.  Now,  don't  you?  " 

Claire  gave  short,  evasive  answers  to  these  and  a 
number  of  similar  appeals.  Mr.  Diggs  distressed 
her  ;  he  was  not  at  all  the  sort  of  person  whom  she 
desired  to  meet.  She  soon  made  herself  so  intention 
ally  distraite  that  he  rose  and  told  her  he  was  going 
to  smoke  a  cigar,  which  he  would  bring  into  the  sit 
ting-room  after  he  had  obtained  it,  provided  she  did 
not  object.  She  professed  herself  wholly  sympa 
thetic  with  this  arrangement,  and  tried  not  to  let  her 
lip  curl  as  she  watched  the  unsteady  pace  of  its  pro 
poser  across  the  long  sitting-room.. 


240  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

But  he  had  scarcely  retired  before  Mrs.  Diggs 
broke  off  her  converse  with  Hollister  and  exclaimed 
to  Claire :  — 

"  Where  on  earth  has  dear  Manhattan  gone  ?  You 
don't  mean  that  he  has  left  you  ?  How  shameful  of 
him  !  " 

"  I  believe  he  has  gone  to  get  a  cigar,"  Claire 
said. 

"  Oh,  a  cigar,"  retorted  Mrs.  Diggs.  "  Yes,  poor 
Manhattan  is  an  inveterate  smoker."  She  now 
looked  at  Hollister  and  Claire  equally,  with  quick, 
alternate  movements  of  the  head.  "  I  feel  sure  that 
tobacco  is  beginning  to  injure  him,  though  it  is  really 
a  very  small  kind  of  vice,  don't  you  know  ?  It  saves 
a  man  from  other  worse  ones.  Manhattan,  dear  boy, 
smokes  a  good  deal,  and  I  suppose  I  should  be  grate 
ful  it 's  only  that.  I  hear  such  dreadful  tales  from 
my  friends  about  their  husbands  drinking.  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  do  if  dear  Manhattan  drank. 
I  'm  so  glad  he  does  n't.  If  he  did,  I  — well,  I  actu 
ally  believe  I  should  get  a  divorce  !  " 

Claire  felt  that  her  husband's  eye,  full  of  merry 
furtive  twinkles,  had  fixed  itself  upon  her  all  through 
this  unexpected  speech.  But  she  kept  her  face  from 
the  least  mirthful  betrayal.  Mr.  Diggs  did  not  come 
back  with  his  cigar. 

Claire  now  wondered,  as  she  watched  her  new 
friend,  and  entered  into  conversation  with  her, 
whether  this  unconsciousness  of  her  husband's  con 
tinual  excesses  could  be  real  and  not  feigned.  It 
WPS  hard  to  suppose  that  so  much  shrewd  observa 
tion  and  so  cunning  a  recognition  of  human  foibles 
and  follies  could  by  any  chance  consort  with  the 
obtuse  lack  of  perception  which  her  late  comments 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  241 

had  implied.  And  yet  Claire  somehow  became  con 
scious  that  Mrs.  Diggs  had  really  meant  it  all.  The 
anomaly  was  hard  to  credit ;  it  was  one  of  those  ab 
surd  contradictions  with  which  human  nature  often 
loves  to  bewilder  us ;  and  yet  its  element  of  prepos 
terous  self-delusion  held  at  least  the  merit  of  being 
genuine. 

Claire  had  reached  a  distinct  conclusion  to  this 
effect,  when  Mrs.  Van  Horn,  entering  the  room, 
paused  and  looked  all  about  her.  There  were  sev 
eral  other  groups  scattered  here  and  there,  but  the 
lady  presently  fixed  her  gaze  upon  that  small  one 
of  which  Mrs.  Diggs  was  a  unit.  And  very  soon 
afterward  she  began  to  move  in  the  direction  of  her 
cousin. 

Mrs.  Diggs  was  so  seated  that  she  could  plainly 
note  the  approach.  She  half-turned  toward  Claire, 
and  said  in  rapid  undertone,  seeming  only  to  speak 
with  the  extreme  edges  of  her  lips  :  — 

"  Can  I  actually  trust  my  senses  ?  Is  it  fact  or 
hallucination  ?  Cornelia  is  coming  this  way.  I 
told  you  she  wanted  to  know  you,  but  I  didn't 
dream  that  she  would  condescend  to  seek  anybody, 
like  this,  short  of  a  queen,  or,  at  the  lowest,  a  duch 
ess.  .  .  .  Yes,  here  she  comes  ;  there  's  no  mistake." 

Mrs.  Diggs  quitted  her  chair,  a  little  later.  She 
took  a  few  steps  toward  her  cousin,  meeting  her. 
Hollister  also  rose  ;  Claire,  naturally,  did  not  rise. 

"  I  want  to  present  Mrs.  Hollister,"  said  Mrs. 
Diggs,  after  a  few  seconds  of  low-toned  converse  with 
the  new-comer.  "  My  cousin,  Mrs.  Van  Horn,"  she 
at  once  added,  completing  the  introduction.  It  was 
then  Claire's  turn  to  rise  also,  which  she  did. 

"  I  think  you  know  my  brother,"  said  Mrs.  Van 
16 


242  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Horn   to   Claire,  when  all  were  again  seated.     "  I 
mean  Mr.  Beverley  Thurston." 

"  Ob,  yes,"  said  Claire. 

Her  monosyllables  were  quite  intentional.  She 
had  not  liked  the  lady's  manner.  There  had  been 
a  remote,  superb  chill  about  it.  She  was  distinctly 
conscious  of  being  descended  to,  as  though  from  an 
invisible  stair.  The  nearer  view  that  she  had  gained 
of  Beverley  Thurston's  sister  made  her  sensible  of  a 
new  and  original  personality.  Mrs.  Van  Horn  was 
so  blonde,  so  superfine,  so  rarely  and  choicely  femi 
nine.  Her  warmth  was  so  faint  and  her  coolness  so 
moderated.  She  was  like  a  rose  that  had  in  some 
way  blent  itself  with  an  icicle,  the  shape  of  the  flower 
remaining,  and  its  flush  taking  a  hue  that  had  the 
tint  of  life  yet  the  pallor  of  frost. 

Claire  determined  not  to  speak  again  unless  Mrs. 
Van  Horn  addressed  her.  ,  This  event  soon  occurred. 
Hollister  and  Mrs.  Diggs  had  fallen  into  conversa 
tion.  Mrs.  Van  Horn  surveyed  them,  with  her  nose 
a  little  in  the  air,  and  her  eyelids  a  little  drooped. 
She  seemed  on  the  point  of  interrupting  their  talk, 
and  of  ignoring  Claire,  who  had  leaned  back  with  a 
nice  semblance  of  entire  unconcern.  In  a  few  mo 
ments,  however,  this  mode  of  treatment  underwent 
change. 

"  I  have  heard  my  brother  speak  of  you,"  she  said, 
fixing  her  light-blue  eyes  full  on  Claire's  face.  "  It 
was  before  you  were  married,  I  think." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Claire.  "  We  were  very  good 
friends.  I  missed  him  after  he  had  gone." 

"  He  went  suddenly,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Horn. 

"  Very  suddenly,"  responded  Claire,  with  a  smile 
as  complaisant  as  it  was  inscrutable, 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  243 

Mrs.  Van  Horn  looked  downward;  she  appeared  to 
be  examining  one  or  two  of  her  rings  ;  they  were  not 
numerous,  though  each  of  them  had  an  odd  individu 
ality  of  prettiness.  "  There  seemed  to  be  no  good 
reason  why  he  should  go,"  she  soon  said,  lifting  her 
eyes  again.  "  He  has  been  there  so  often." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  hard  to  go  too  often," 
said  Claire. 

"  You  have  been,  then  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I  wish  to  go  very  much.  .  .  .  Not  yet, 
however." 

"  Not  yet  ?  "  repeated  the  lady.  Claire  could  not 
accuse  her  of  staring,  in  any  downright  way,  but  she 
had  an  impression  that  every  least  detail  of  her  own 
dress  or  person  was  receiving  the  most  critical  regard. 
"  I  suppose  your  husband's  ailairs  detain  him  here, 
for  the  present." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Claire,  but  at  the  same  time  she 
shook  her  head  negatively.  "It  isn't  that,  however. 
I  mean  it  would  not  be  only  that.  There  is  some 
thing  for  me  to  see,  to  know,  to  do,  here.  I  haven't 
finished  with  my  own  country  yet,"  she  proceeded, 
giving  a  bright  smile.  "I  am  not  yet  ready  for  Eu 
rope." 

Mrs.  Van  Horn  laughed.  But  it  was  not  a  laugh 
with  any  amusement  in  it,  neither  was  it  one  that 
contained  any  irony.  "  My  brother  thought  you  very 
clever,"  she  said.  "  He  told  me  so  repeatedly." 

"  That  was  kind  of  him,"  Claire  answered.  She 
did  not  decide  that  Mrs.  Van  Horn  was  patronizing 
her ;  she  decided,  on  the  contrary,  that  the  sister  of 
Thurston  was  trying  to  make  her  disinclination  to 
patronize  most  plainly  apparent.  "It  is  pleasant 
to  hear  that  he  thinks  well  of  me,"  Claire  went  on. 


244  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  He  is  a  man  whose  good  opinion  I  shall  always 
highly  value." 

Mrs.  Van  Horn  leaned  forward.  She  was  smiling, 
now,  but  it  struck  Claire  that  her  smile  was  at  best 
a  chilly  artifice.  "  You  did  not  show  much  regard 
for  his  good  opinion  in  one  instance,"  she  said,  lower 
ing  her  voice  so  that  Claire  just  caught  it,  and  no 
more.  "  I  mean  when  he  asked  you  to  marry  him. 
You  see,  I  know  all  about  that.  He  told  me.  It 
sent  him  to  Europe." 

This  was,  of  course,  a  bombshell  to  Claire.  But 
even  while  the  color  was  getting  up  into  her  cheeks 
with  no  weak  flood,  she  realized  that  it  bad  been 
meant  for  a  bombshell,  and  made  swift  resolve  that 
its  explosion  should  not  deal  death  to  her  self-com 
mand. 

"I  am  sorry  that  he  told  you,"  she  rather  promptly 
managed  to  say.  "  I  have  kept  it  a  secret  from 
everybody.  I  thought  he  would  do  the  same." 

"  Oh,  he  has  no  secrets  from  me,"  returned  Mrs. 
Van  Horn,  with  what  seemed  to  Claire  an  extraordi 
nary  brightness  of  tone.  The  speaker  immediately 
drew  out  a  little  jeweled  watch  and  looked  at  the 
hour.  "  It  is  later  than  I  thought,"  she  now  said. 
"  I  have  two  letters  to  write ;  I  must  be  going  up 
stairs.  Pray  come  and  see  me,  Mrs.  Hollister,  when 
you  are  back  in  town,"  she  continued,  while  putting 
her  watch  away  again,  and  calling  Claire  by  her 
name  for  the  first  time  since  they  had  met.  "  Mrs. 
Diggs  will  tell  you  my  address.  Promise  me  that 
you  will  not  forgot  to  come.  I  leave  rather  early  to 
morrow,  and  may  not  have  a  chance  of  repeating  my 
request."  Here  she  rose  and  put  out  her  hand.  Claire 
took  it,  but  said  nothing.  She  had  lost  her  self -com- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  245 

mand,  after  all ;  she  was  almost  too  embarrassed  to 
utter  a  word.  Mrs.  Van  Horn  had  nearly  gained 
one  of  the  doors  of  the  great  room  before  Claire  real 
ized  what  had  taken  place.  A  certain  splendor  of 
courtesy  enveloped  the  whole  departure.  It  was  ad 
mirably  conducted,  notwithstanding  its  abruptness. 
It  was  one  of  the  things  that  Mrs.  Van  Horn  always 
did  surprisingly  well ;  she  could  enter  or  retire  from 
a  room  with  an  effect  quite  her  own  in  its  supple 
graciousness  and  dignity.  But  Claire  soon  felt  that 
both  the  graciousness  and  dignity  had  something 
mystic  about  them.  It  was  somehow  as  if  an  oracle 
had  pronounced  something  very  oracular  indeed. 
The  civility  of  the  invitation  had  been  so  totally  un 
foreseen,  and  it  had  followed  with  so  keen  a  sudden 
ness  the  recent  bewildering  revelation,  that  Claire  did 
not  know  how  to  explain  the  whole  proceeding,  to 
construe  it,  to  read  between  its  lines. 

Hollister,  who  had  received  a  brief,  polite  bow  of 
adieu,  and  risen  as  he  returned  it,  broke  the  ensuing 
silence. 

"  Did  n't  she  go  away  quite  in  a  hurry  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  I  hope  you  have  n't  offended  her,"  he  added,  jo 
cosely,  to  his  wife. 

"  Cornelia  did  n't  look  a  bit  offended,"  said  Mrs. 
Diggs,  regarding  Claire,  or  rather  her  continued 
blush.  "  But  that  means  nothing.  You  did  n't 
quarrel,  now,  did  you,  Mrs.  Hollister  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Claire,  still  dazed  and  demoralized. 
"  She  asked  me  to  visit  her  in  town  ;  she  was  very 
urgent  that  I  should  do  so." 

"  You  don't  really  tell  me  such  a  thing !  "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Diggs.  "  You  've  no  idea  how  prodigious  an 
honor  she  was  conferring.  It's  like  decorating  you 
with  the  order  of  St.  Something  —  actually  it  is." 


246  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  failed  to  value  it  in  that  way,"  re 
plied  Claire,  who  was  recovering  herself. 

"  Of  course  you  did.  You  have  n't  yet  taken  in 
the  full  enormity  of  Cornelia's  importance.  You 
can't  do  it  until  you  see  her  surrounded  by  her  own 
proper  atmosphere  —  with  her  foot  on  her  native 
heath,  so  to  speak.  Then  you  '11  understand  the 
massive  coudecension  of  to-night." 

"I  think  /  would  just  as  lief  not  understand  it," 
laughed  Hollister,  with  his  characteristic  play  of  gen 
tle  humor.  "  It  does  n't  repay  you  to  climb  these 
very  big  mountains.  Everybody  says  that  there 's 
very  little  to  see  after  you  've  got  to  the  tops  of 
them." 

Mrs.  Diggs  echoed  his  laugh.  She  was  looking  at 
Claire,  however,  with  her  bright,  black,  restless  eyes. 
"  I  think  your  wife  may  want  to  climb,"  she  said. 
"  I  "11  be  her  guide,  if  she  '11  let  me.  There 's  a  very 
good  view  from  the  summit  of  cousin  Cornelia.  You 
can  look  down  on  a  lot  of  smaller  peaks." 

Claire  shook  her  head.  She  had  got  her  natural 
color  again,  but  not  her  natural  manner;  she  spoke 
in  a  tone  of  preoccupied  seriousness  that  did  not 
harmonize  with  her  light  words. 

"  I  should  n't  like  to  fall  down  one  of  her  glaciers 
and  be  lost,"  she  said. 

"  Oh,  there  's  no  fear  of  that,"  cried  Mrs.  Diggs. 
"You're  too  sure-footed." 

Somewhat  later  that  evening,  when  they  were 
alone  together,  Hollister  asked  his  wife : 

"Did  that  Mrs.  Van  Horn  say  anything  that  hurt 
you,  Claire  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.     What  made  you  think  so,  Herbert  ?  " 

"I  ...  Well,  perhaps  I  only  fancied  it.  ...  You 
had  known  her  brother,  had  n't  you  ?  " 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  247 

"  Yes.  He  was  a  good  deal  at  the  Bergemanns' 
last  Spring.  He  went  to  Europe  afterward.  I  sup 
pose  that  was  why  she  wanted  to  know  me  better." 

Claire  said  this  with  a  fine  composure.  She  was 
standing  before  her  dressing-table,  disengaging  the 
roses  from  her  breast.  Hollister  stole  up  behind  her 
and  clasped  her  in  his  arms,  setting  his  face  close  be 
side  hers,  and  looking  with  a  full  smile  at  their  twin 
reflection,  which  the  mirror  now  gave  to  both. 

"So  you've  got  among  the  great  people  at  last, 
little  struggler,"  he  said ;  "  you  've  begun  to  be  a 
great  person  yourself."  He  kissed  her  on  the  temple, 
still  keeping  his  arms  about  her.  "  I  suppose  you  '11 
make  quick  work  of  it  now.  I  'm  glad,  for  your  sake 
— you  know  I  am  !  You  're  bound  to  succeed.  I 
shall  be  awfully  proud  of  you." 

This  seemed  quite  in  the  proper  order  of  things  to 
Claire.  Her  husband's  approval  was  a  matter-of- 
course  ;  it  was  like  the  roses  he  gave  her  every  day 
—  like  the  kiss,  the  embrace,  the  loving  devotion  that 
had  each  grown  accepted  synonyms  of  Herbert  him 
self.  She  forgot  the  words  and  the  caress  with  care 
less  promptitude.  But  she  did  not  forget  what  Mrs. 
Van  Horn  had  said  to  her,  downstairs  in  the  great 
sitting-room.  Her  sleep  that  night  was  perturbed  by 
the  memory  of  it.  "  Does  that  woman  like  me,  or 
does  she  hate  me?"  repeatedly  passed  through  her 
mind,  in  the  intervals  between  sleeping  and  waking. 
"  Does  she  feel  that  she  owes  me  a  grudge,  and  long 
to  pay  it  ?  Is  she  angry  that  I  refused  her  brother  ? 
How  strange  it  would  be  if  I  should  find  myself  face 
to  face  with  some  hard,  bitter  enmity  just  at  the 
threshold  of  the  new  life  I  want  to  live." 

But  the  bright  morning  dissipated  these  brooding 


248  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

fears.  It  was  a  very  bright  morning,  and  an  unex 
pectedly  cold  one.  The  sea  sparkled  with  the  vivid 
brilliance  of  real  autumn  as  Claire  looked  at  it  from 
her  window  on  rising,  and  every  trace  of  its  former 
lazy  mist  had  left  the  silvery  crystal  blue  of  the  over 
arching  sky.  A  sharp  barometric  change  had  oc 
curred  during  the  night.  Claire  and  Hollister  effected 
their  toilets  with  numb  fingers  and  not  a  few  audible 
shivers.  The  flimsy  architecture  of  the  huge  hotel, 
reared  to  court  coolness  rather  than  to  resist  cold, 
had  suddenly  become  an  abode  of  aguish  discomfort. 
Its  occupants  fled,  that  day,  in  startled  scores. 
Mrs.  Diggs  was  among  the  earlier  departures.  She 
bade  farewell  to  Claire,  wrapped  in  a  formidably 
wintry  mantle.  Her  leave-taking  was  warm  enough, 
though  her  teeth  almost  seemed  to  chatter  while  she 
gave  it.  Her  husband  was  at  her  side,  looking  as 
though  the  altered  weather  had  incited  him  to  even 
a  more  bacchanal  disregard  of  his  complexion  than 
usual.  The  chubby-cheeked  little  girl,  her  French 
bonne,  and  the  maid  of  Mrs.  Diggs,  were  also  near  at 
hand.  They  were  all  five  on  the  piazza,  where  Hoi- 
lister  and  Claire  had  also  gone,  both  careless,  in  their 
youthful  health  and  vigor,  of  the  rushing  ocean  wind 
that  blew  out  into  straight  lines  every  shred  of  rai 
ment  that  it  could  seize.  Little  Louise  was  whimper 
ing  and  contumacious ;  she  wanted  to  break  away 
from  Aline,  and  pulled  against  the  latter's  tense 
clasp  of  her  hand  as  if  the  wind  and  she  were  in 
some  hoydenish,  fly-away  plot  together.  An  admon 
itory  stroke  of  bells  had  just  sounded  from  the  near 
depot ;  the  train  would  soon  glide  off  from  the  big 
wooden  platform  beyond.  Mrs.  Diggs  was  in  a 
flurry,  like  the  weather ;  her  great  wrap  could  not 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  249 

warm  her ;  she  looked  more  chalky  of  hue  than  ever, 
and  the  bluish  line  at  her  lips  had  grown  purplish. 
But  a  defective  circulation  had  not  chilled  her  spirits; 
she  was  alive  with  her  wonted  vivacity. 

She  had  caught  Claire's  hand,  while  turning  at 
very  brief  intervals  toward  Aline  and  the  child.  Her 
sentences  had  become  spasmodic,  polyglot,  and  paren 
thetical  ;  they  were  half  addressed  to  Claire  and  half 
to  the  recalcitrant  Louise. 

"  Now  you  wont  forget  just  where  you  're  to  fiu4 
me,  will  you,  my  dear  Mrs.  Hollister?  .  .  .  Soia 
bonne  fille,  Louise;  nous  allons  d  Neiv  York  toute  de 
suite.  ...  I  want  so  much  to  see  you  as  soon  as  you 
can  manage  to  come.  Did  you  ever  know  anything 
like  this  dreadful  gale  ?  I  'm  so  cold  that  I  believe 
it  will  take  a  good  month  to  warm  me.  .  .  .  Tais-toi, 
cherie,  tu  vas  d  New  York,  oil  il  ne  fait  pas  froid  du 
tout.  .  .  .  You're  going  this  afternoon,  you  say?  I 
don't  see  how  you  can  wait.  There  's  cousin  Jane 
Van  Corlear  just  going  inside  —  I  promised  to  go 
along  with  her.  Say  good-by,  Manhattan  ;  the  cold 
weather  has  made  you  as  red  as  a  turkey-cock,  has  n't 
it,  dear  boy  ?  .  .  .  Aline,  prenez  garde  !  Elle  est  lien 
meehante,  elle  veut  d'etre  absollument  perdue.  .  .  . 
Well,  good-by,  both  of  you.  I  do  hope  you  won't 
freeze  before  you  get  off !  " 

When  the  Diggs  family  had  disappeared,  Claire 
and  her  husband  went  and  finished  their  packing. 
That  afternoon  they  left  the  deserted  hotel,  reaching 
New  York  at  about  dusk.  They  had  themselves 
driven  to  the  Everett  House ;  Hollister  had  occasion 
ally  lodged  there  in  bachelor  days,  and  proposed  it 
as  a  temporary  place  of  sojourn. 

It  proved  less  temporary  than  they  had  expected. 


250  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Apartments  were  easy  and  yet  bard  to  procure.  A 
good  many  sumptuous  suites,  in  haughty  and  hand 
some  buildings,  \vere  offered  them  at  depressing 
prices.  They  found  other  suites,  in  buildings  far  less 
grand,  which  pleased  them  less  and  suited  their  purse 
better,  but  still  left  a  certain  margin  as  regarded 
proposed  rental  expenditure.  Five  or  six  days  were 
consumed  in  these  monotonous  modes  of  search. 
They  could  obtain  lodgment  that  was  too  dear,  and 
lodgment  that  was  too  cheap ;  but  they  could  not  hit 
the  golden1  mean  of  adaptability  which  would  com 
bine  delectable  quarters  with  moderate  rates. 

"It  is  tiresome  work,"  Claiie  at  length  said,  "and 
it  is  keeping  you  from  your  business,  Herbert,  in  a 
most  shameful  way.  I  really  don't  see  what  we  are 
to  do." 

"The  apartments  in  West  Thirty- Sixth  Street, 
that  we  saw  yesterday,"  ventured  Hollister,  genially, 
"  were  rather  nice,  though  small,  of  course." 

"  Quite  too  small,"  affirmed  Claire.  "  Besides,  the 
house  itself  had  a  dingy  air.  It  looked  so  —  so  eco 
nomical,  Herbert.  We  don't  want  to  look  econom 
ical  ;  we  want  only  to  be  it." 

Hollister  made  a  blithe  grimace.  "  I  am  afraid 
that  to  be  it  and  to  look  it  are  inseparable,"  he  said. 
"  The  grain  of  the  rind  tells  the  quality  of  the  fruit." 
He  put  his  head  a  little  sideways  and  glanced  at 
his  wife  with  a  quizzical  eye.  "  Now,  in  the  way  of 
downright  bargains,  Claire,"  he  went  on,  "there  is 
that  nice  basement  house  which  is  for  rent  entire  in 
Twenty-Eighth  Street.  The  one  we  drifted  into  by 
mistake  during  our  wanderings  of  yesterday,  you  re 
member." 

"  I  'd  rather  not  think  of  it,"  said  Claire,  with  a 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  251 

sort  of  musing  demureness.  "  I  liked  it  very  much. 
I  don't  believe  there  is  a  furnished  house  to  rent  in 
the  whole  city  that  could  be  had  for  the  same  terms. 
But  you  know  very  well  that  we  could  not  afford  to 
take  it,  with  the  need  of  at  least  three  servants,  apart 
from  other  expenses." 

"  True,"  said  Hollister.  "  That  is,  unless  I  get 
along  better  —  make  a  hit  on  the  street,  you  know." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Claire,  "  there  is  no  use  in  de 
pending  upon  chance.  Of  course,"  she  added,  slowly, 
with  a  grave,  affirmative  motion  of  the  head,  "  I 
should  like  very  much  to  have  the  house.  You  know 
I  should." 

"  Then,  we  '11  rent  it,"  Hollister  struck  in,  swiftly 
and  with  fervor.  "  It  won't  be  much  of  a  risk,  but 
we  '11  take  what  risk  there  is.  The  first  quarter's 
rent  would  be  absolutely  sure,  Claire.  Are  you 
agreed  ?  " 

He  spoke  entirely  from  his  loving  perception  of 
how  much  she  would  like  to  reign  as  the  ruler  of  her 
own  establishment.  It  thrilled  him  to  think  of  her 
in  this  proper,  sovereign  sort  of  character. 

"  It  will  not  be  right,  Herbert,"  Claire  said.  "We 
made  up  our  minds  to  spend  just  so  much  and  no 
more."  .  .  . 

But  her  tones  lacked  all  imperative  disapproval. 
Perhaps  she  was  thinking  how  pleasant  it  would  be 
for  Mrs.  Diggs  to  find  her  handsomely  installed  as 
the  mistress  of  her  own  private  dwelling. 

On  the  following  day  Hollister  rented  the  littlo 
basement  house  in  Twenty- Eighth  Street.  Claire 
accompanied  him.  while  he  did  so.  She  was  fright 
ened  when  the  terms  asked  were  finally  accepted. 
She  was  still  more  frightened  when  she  thought  of 


252  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

the  steady,  draining  expenses  which  must  follow. 
But,  after  all,  her  alarm  only  acted  as  a  sort  of  un 
dercurrent.  Above  it  was  the  large,  delightful  sat 
isfaction  of  foreseeing  herself  the  reigning  head  of  a 
distinct  establishment.  It  was  an  extremely  pretty 
house,  no  less  outside  than  inside.  The  occupation 
by  its  new  tenants  had  bu.-n  arranged  as  immediate, 
and  this  notable  event  soon  occurred.  Claire  went 
herself  to  hire  the  three  servants.  She  found  a  <nvat 

O 

supply  at  a  certain  depot  for  this  sort  of  demand. 
She  engaged  three  whom  she  liked  the  most,  or 
rather  disliked  the  least.  And  very  soon  she  and 
her  husband  quitted  their  hotel  for  good.  They  be 
came  the  co-proprietors  of  the  basement  house  in 
Twenty-Eighth  Street. 

Certain  new  tasks  occupied  Claire.  She  quickly 
performed  them.  Her  administrative  faculty  now 
showed  itself  in  clear  and  striking  relief.  Her  penu 
rious  past  had  taught  her  unforgotten  lessons  ;  she 
went  into  her  new  place  with  none  of  a  neophyte's 
unskilled  rawness ;  her  fund  of  domestic,  of  manage 
rial  experience  was  like  an  unused  yet  efficient  well ; 
she  had  only  to  give  a  turn  of  the  band  and  up  came 
the  buckets,  moistly  and  practically  laden.  True, 
she  worked  under  the  most  altered  conditions  ;  she 
was  no  longer  a  drudge  but  a  supervisor;  and  yet 
the  very  grinmess  of  that  early  apprenticeship  had 
held  in  it  a  radical  value  of  instruction.  She  who 
had  known  of  the  prices  paid  for  inferior  household 
goods,  could  use  her  knowledge  now  to  fine  profit  in 
the  purchase  of  better  ones.  Having  swept  with  her 
own  toil  floors  that  were  clad  coarsely,  she  could  in 
readier  way  discern  uncleanly  neglect  on  the  part  of 
underlings  who  swept  floors  clad  with  velvet. 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  253 

Her  responsibility  was  borne  with  great  lightness. 
"  I  think  I  am  a  sort  of  natural  housekeeper,"  she 
soon  told  her  husband.  "  It  all  comes  very  easy.  I 
find  that  my  daily  leisure  is  increasing  at  a  rapid 
rate."  She  directed  with  so  much  system,  discipline, 
and  keen-sightedness,  that  speed  was  a  natural  re 
sult.  Her  detection  of  negligence  and  fraud  was 
prompt  and  thorough.  She  discouraged  the  least  fa 
miliarity  in  her  servants.  On  this  point  she  was 
severely  sensitive  ;  she  maintained  her  dignity  in  all 
intercourse  with  them,  and  sometimes  it  was  a  dig 
nity  so  positive  and  accentuated  that  it  blent  with 
her  personal  beauty  in  giving  the  effect  of  a  pic 
turesque  sternness.  The  secret  of  its  exercise  lay 
wholly  in  her  former  life.  She  had  once  been  so 
cially  low  enough  for  these  very  employees  to  have 
treated  her  as  an  equal.  All  that  was  dead  and  in 
its  grave.  She  wanted  to  keep  it  there  forever.  In 
stinctively  she  stamped  down  the  sods,  and  even  held 
a  vigilant  foot  upon  them. 

She  was  soon  prepared  to  seek  out  Mrs.  Diggs  and 
pay  her  a  long,  intimate  visit.  She  found  her  new 
friend  in  a  small  but  charming  home.  The  drawing- 
room  into  which  she  was  shown  displayed  a  great 
deal  of  good  taste,  and  yet  it  had  not  a  touch  of 
needless  grandeur.  Its  least  detail,  from  the  cushion 
of  a  sofa  to  the  panel  of  a  screen,  suggested  perma 
nent  and  sensible  usage.  It  was  a  room  that  shocked 
you  with  no  inelegance,  while  it  invited  you  by  a 
sort  of  generally  sympathetic  upholstery  and  appoint 
ment. 

Mrs.  Diggs  was  delighted  to  hear  of  the  new 
Twenty-Eighth  Street  residence.  She  took  Claire's 
glovi'd  hand  in  both  of  her  slim,  bony  ones,  and  prof 
fered  the  most  effusive  congratulations, 


254  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

"  It 's  so  much  nicer,  don't  you  know,  to  be  a  real 
chdtelaine,  like  that  —  to  have  your  own  four  domi 
ciliary  walls,  and  not  live  in  a  honeycomb  fashion, 
like  a  bee  in  its  cell,  with  Heaven  knows  how  many 
other  bees  buzzing  all  about  you.  I  'm  inexpressibly 
glad  you  've  done  it.  Now  you  are  lancet1,  don't  you 
know?  You  can  entertain  people.  And  I 'm  sure, 
my  dear,  that  you  do  want  to  entertain  people." 

Claire  gave  a  pretty  little  trill  of  a  laugh.  "  I 
have  no  people  to  entertain,  yet,"  she  said. 

Mrs.  Diggs  was  still  holding  her  hand.  "  Oh,  you 
sly  mouse  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  You  've  got  great 
ideas  in  your  head  for  the  coming  winter.  Don't 
tell  me  you  have  n't.  Remember  our  talks  at  Coney 
Island.  Ami  you're  going  straight  for  the  big  game. 
You  're  not  of  the  sort  that  will  be  content  with  a 
small,  low  place.  Not  you  !  You  want  a  large  and 
a  high  one.  It's  going  to  be  a  great  fight.  Now, 
don't  say  it  isn't.  I  know  all  about  you.  I  dote  on 
you,  and  I  know  all  about  you.  You  intend  to  try 
and  be  a  leader.  You  've  got  it  in  you  to  be  one, 
too.  I  believe  you  '11  succeed  —  I  do,  honestly  !  I  '11 
put  my  money  on  you,  as  that  dear  Manhattan  of 
mine  would  say  of  a  horse.  .  .  .  You  're  not  annoyed 
at  me  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  smiled  Claire.  "  But  everything 
must  have  a  beginning,  you  know.  And  I  have  no 
beginning,  as  yet.  I  have  only  met  yourself  and  " 
.  .  .  She  paused,  then,  looking  a  little  serious. 

Here  Mrs.  Diggs  dropped  Claire's  hand,  and  burst 
into  a  loud,  hilarious  laugh.  Her  mirth  quite  con 
vulsed  her  for  several  seconds. 

"  Cornelia  Van  Horn  !  "  she  presently  shouted  in 
a  riotously  gleeful  way.  "  Myself  and  Cornelia  Van 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  255 

Horn  !  That  is  what  you  mean.  Is  n't  it,  now  ? 
Is  rit  it  ?  " 

She  was  looking  at  Claire  with  both  hands  in  her 
lap  and  her  angular  body  bent  oddly  forward.  She 
gave  the  idea  of  a  humorous  human  interrogation- 
mark. 

"  Well,  yes,"  said  Claire,  soberly,  and  a  little  of- 
fendedly  ;  "  I  do  mean  that.  Pray  what  is  there  so 
funny  about  it?  " 

Mrs.  Diggs  again  became  convulsed  with  laugh 
ter  :  "  Funny ! "  she  at  length  managed  to  say. 
"  Why,  it 's  magnificent !  It 's  delicious  !  You  're 
going  to  tilt  against  Cornelia  !  Of  course  you  are ! 
You  don't  know  a  soul  yet;  you're  quite  obscure; 
but  you  have  a  sublime  self-confidence.  That  is  al 
ways  the  armor-bearer  of  genius  ;  it  carries  the  spear 
and  shield  of  the  conqueror.  My  dear,  I  always 
wanted  to  have  somebody  beard  Cornelia  in  her  den, 
don't  you  know,  like  the  Douglas  !  I  'm  with  you 
—  don't  forget  that !  I'll  help  you  all  I  can.  And 
when  you  've  shaken  the  pillars  of  New  York  society 
to  their  foundations,  please  be  grateful  and  recollect 
that  I  set  you  up  to  it." 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  laughed  again,  in  her 
boisterous,  vehement,  but  never  ill-bred  way. 

Claire  sat  and  watched  her.  She  was  not  even 
smiling  now;  she  was  biting  her  lip.  She  had  con 
cluded,  some  time  ago,  that  she  understood  Mrs. 
Diggs  perfectly.  But  she  did  not  know,  at  present, 
in  what  spirit  to  take  this  noisy  paroxysm.  Was  it 
sincere,  amicable  amusement,  or  was  it  pitiless  and 
impudent  mockery  ? 


XV. 

BUT  Claire's  doubts  were  soon  settled.  If  that 
visit  did  not  precisely  end  them,  a  few  succeeding 
days  forever  laid  the  ghost  of  her  spleen.  Mrs. 
Diggs  had  been  jocundly  candid,  and  that  was  all. 
No  baleful  sarcasms  had  pulsed  beneath  her  viva 
cious  prophecies.  She  soon  convinced  Claire  that 
she  was  a  stanch  and  loyal  confederate. 

She  often  dropped  into  the  Twenty-Eighth  Street 
house,  and  praised  its  appointments  warmly.  "  Your 
little  reception-room  is  perfect,"  she  told  Claire, 
"  with  those  dark  crimson  walls  and  that  furniture 
so  covered  with  big  pink  roses.  I  like  it  immensely, 
don't  you  know  ?  I  would  n't  have  liked  it  two  or 
three  years  ago ;  I  would  have  thought  crimson  and 
pink  a  weird  discord;  but  fashion  gives  certain 
things  their  stamp ;  it  makes  us  wake  up,  some 
morning,  and  find  our  hates  turned  to  loves."  About 
the  dining-room,  on  the  same  floor,  and  the  drawh'g- 
rooni,  on  the  floor  above,  she  was  genially  critical. 
This  or  that  detail  she  discovered  to  be  "  not  just 
quite  right,  don't  you  know  ?  "  and  Claire  in  nearly 
all  such  cases  changed  dissent  into  agreement  after 
a  little  serious  reflection.  Some  of  the  resultant 
alterations  involved  decided  expense.  This  Claire 
regretted  while  she  would  let  her  husband  incur  it. 
Hollister  always  did  so  readily  enough.  Wall  Street 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  257 

had  rather  smiled  upon  him,  of  lute.  A  few  of  his 
ventures  had  become  bolder,  but  flattering  successes 
had  persistently  followed  them. 

"  The  theatre  is  all  lit,"  he  said  to  her  one  evening, 
"  but  the  curtain  does  n't  rise.  How  is  that,  Claire  ?  " 

She  knew  perfectly  well  what  he  meant,  but  chose 
to  feign  that  she  did  not  know.  They  had  been 
surveying  together  a  few  decorative  improvements, 
recently  wrought,  in  mantel,  dado,  or  even  table- 
cover. 

"  I  don't  think  I  follow  your  metaphor,"  said 
Claire.  There  was  the  tiny  outbreak  of  a  smile  at 
each  corner  of  her  mouth.  It  struck  Hollister,  who 
was  standing  quite  near  her,  that  she  looked  delight 
fully  prim.  He  kissed  her  before  he  answered,  and 
then,  while  he  did  so,  let  his  lips  almost  graze  her 
ear,  saying  in  an  absurd  guttural-  semitone,  as  of 
melo-dramatic  confidence  :  — 

"  I  mean  that  it 's  time  for  Act  First.  Time  for 
the  lords  and  ladies  to  enter,  with  a  grand  flourish  of 
trumpets.  Of  course,  when  they  do  come,  they  '11 
all  kiss  the  hand  of  their  charming  hostess,  just  like 
this." 

But  she  would  not  let  him  kiss  her  hand,  though 
he  caught  it  and  made  the  attempt. 

"  There  are  no  lords  and  ladies  in  New  York,"  she 
said,  laughing  and  receding  from  him  at  the  same 
time.  "  And  if  they  should  come,  they  would  never 
behave  in  such  an  old-fashioned  style  as  that." 

But  though  she  treated  them  lightly,  his  words  fed 
the  fuel  of  her  deep,  keen  longing.  She  had  made 
up  her  mind  that  Mrs.  Diggs  had  been  right.  She 
would  never  be  content  to  take  a  low  place.  Noth 
ing  save  the  highest  of  all  would  ever  satisfy  her. 

17 


258  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

At  the  same  time  she  clearly  understood  that  great 
sums  of  money  were  needed  to  accomplish  any  such 
end.  She  spent  several  days  of  brooding  trouble. 
She  had  not  great  sums  of  money  —  or  rather,  Hoi- 
lister  had  not.  And  there  seemed  slight  chance  of 
her  husband  ever  securing  them. 

"  The  season  is  dreadfully  young  yet,"  said  Mrs. 
Diggs  to  her,  the  next  day,  while  they  sat  together. 
"  There  is  simply  nothing  going  on.  There  are  no 
teas,  no  receptions,  and,  of  course,  no  balls.  But 
we  '11  go  and  take  our  drive  in  the  Park.  Do  hurry 
and  dress." 

Claire  dressed,  but  not  very  quickly.  She  kept 
Mrs.  Diggs  waiting  at  least  fifteen  minutes.  Mrs. 
Diggs's  carriage  was  also  waiting.  It  was  not  at  all 
like  its  owner,  this  carriage.  It  was  burly  and  some 
what  cumbrous.  The  silver-harnessed  horses  that 
drew  it  had  clipped  tails  and  huge  auburn  bodies. 
But  the  wheels  of  the  vehicle  were  touched  here  and 
there  with  a  tasteful  dash  of  scarlet,  as  if  in  pretty 
chromatic  tribute  to  the  violent  complexion  of  "  clear 
Manhattan."  When  they  were  being  rolled  side  by 
side  together  in  this  easy-cushioned  carriage,  Mrs. 
Diggs  said  to  Claire  :  — 

"  You  kept  me  waiting  a  little  eternity.  I  hate  to 
wait.  I  suppose  it 's  because  I  'm  so  nervous.  I  Ve 
been  to  three  or  four  different  doctors  about  my 
nervousness.  They  nearly  all  say  it 's  a  kind  of  dys 
pepsia.  But  that  seems  to  me  so  ridiculous.  Dys 
pepsia  means  indigestion,  and  I  can  digest  a  pair  of 
tongs  —  no  matter  at  what  hour  I  should  eat  it.  My 
dear  Claire "  (she  had  got  to  use  this  familiar  ad 
dress,  of  late),  "I  don't  see  how  you  can  get  on  with 
out  a  maid.  That  is  why  you  're  so  slow  with  your 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  259 

bonnet  and  wraps  ;  be  sure  it  is.     Oh,  a  maid  is  a 

wond.-rful  comfort." 

"  So  is  a  carriage  like  this,"  said  Claire,  smiling. 
"  Yes,  a  carriage  is  indispensable,  too.     At  least  I 

find  it  so.     You  will  also,  my  dear,  when  you  come 

to  pay  visits  among  a  large  circle  of  friends." 

"  I  'in  afraid  that  both  the  maid  and  the  carriage 

will  be  out  of  rny  reach  for  a  very  long  time  yet," 

said  Claire.     ''Our  taking  the  house,  you  know,  was 

a  great  act  of  extravagance." 

"Oh,  your  husband  is  doing  finely  in  Wall  Street. 

I   have   heard  from    Manhattan    about    his    brilliant 

strokes.       Manhattan    thinks    him    intensely    clever. 

His  success  is  creating  a  good  deal  of  talk,  I  assure 

you." 

This  was  true.     Hollister  would  now  often  laugh 

and   say :     "  The  luck  seems  to  be  all  on  my  side, 

Claire.  And  I  don't  take  any  very  fearful  risks, 
either,  somehow.  The  money  is  n't  coming  in  by 
hundreds,  at  present ;  it  is  coming  in  by  thousands. 
I  'm  getting  to  be  a  rather  important  fellow  ;  upon 
my  word,  I  am.  My  own  dawning  prominence 
amuses  me  considerably.  But  it  isn't  turning  my 
head  the  least  in  the  world.  A  lot  of  the  big  men 
down  there  are  taking  me  up.  A  month  ago  they 
scarcely  knew  if  I  existed." 

Then  he  and  Claire  wotild  talk  together  of  the  real 
speculative  reasons  for  his  success ;  he  would  find 
that  she  had  forgotten  hardly  an  item  of  past  infor 
mation  ;  her  judgments  and  decisions  were  sometimes 
so  shrewd  that  they  startled  him,  considering  how 
purely  they  were  based  upon  theory  and  hearsay. 
Once  or  twice  he  permitted  her  counsels  to  sway 
him,  though  not  with  her  secured  sanction.  The  re- 


260  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

suit  turned  out  notably  well.  He  told  her  what  he 
had  done,  and  why  he  had  done  it,  after  the  triumph 
had  been  achieved.  She  was  by  no  means  flattered 
on  discovering  the  faith  he  had  reposed  in  her.  She 
even  went  so  far  as  to  markedly  chide  him  for  hav 
ing  reposed  it. 

"Remember,  Herbert,"  she  said,  "that  I  am  of 
necessity  ignorant  regarding  these  matters,  in  every 
practical  sense.  All  my  opinions  are  quite  without 
the  value  of  experience.  Please  never  take  me  for 
your  guide  again.  Never  sell  nor  buy  a  single  share 
because  I  venture  the  expression  of  an  idea  on  sales 
or  purchases.  I  am  proud  and  glad  to  think  myself 
the  cause  of  your  having  made  a  lucky  operation ; 
that,  of  course,  I  need  not  tell  you.  But  I  should 
not  forgive  myself  for  ever  leading  you  into  disaster." 

She  reflected,  secretly :  '  How  weak  Herbert  is  ! 
He  is  no  doubt  clear  and  quick  of  mind,  and  he  is  of 
just  the  light-hearted,  easy  temperament  that  has 
what  he  himself  calls  "nerve  on  the  Street."  But 
how  weak  he  is  in  his  trust  of  me!  Does  not  that 
show  him  weak  in  other  ways?  Would  a  man  of 
strong  nature  let  his  fondness  ever  so  betray  his  pru 
dence?  I  must  be  guarded  hereafter  in  my  talks 
with  him.  I  really  know  nothing ;  I  only  use  his 
knowledge  to  build  upon.  What  he  is  doing  is  three 
quarters  mere  hazard,  and  the  rest  cleverness.  I  see 
plainly  that  he  lias  begun  a  very  precarious  career. 
He  may  win  in  it ;  others  have  won.  He  may 
win  enormously ;  I  am  just  beginning  to  accept  his 
chances  of  doing  so.  But  there  must  be  no  balking 
and  thwarting  on  my  part.  He  would  ruin  himself, 
most  probably,  if  I  proposed  it.  He  is  so  weak 
where  T  am  concerned  I  Yes,  in  all  such  ways  he  ia 
so  weak  I ' 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  261 

She  could  not  dwell  upon  the  fact  of  this  weakness 
with  any  tender  feeling.  She  had  grown  to  accept 
his  love  as  something  so  natural  and  ordinary  that 
she  could  coldly  survey  as  a  flaw  any  point  in  its  de 
votion  which  verged  upon  indiscreet  excess.  Just  at 
this  period  in  her  life  it  sometimes  struck  her  that 
she  was  very  cold  toward  her  husband.  But  no  pang 
of  conscience  accompanied  the  realization.  She  had 
disguised  nothing  from  Herbert.  He  knew  precisely 
what  she  wished  to  do.  He  even  sympathized  with 
her  aim,  and  desired  to  abet  it.  She  could  not  help 
being  cold.  Besides,  he  had  never  offered  the  faintest 
objection  to  her  coldness.  He  evidently  wanted  her 
to  be  just  as  she  was.  And  moreover,  she  was  no 
different  at  this  hour,  when  the  possibility  of  a  great 
social  victory  assumed  definite  outlines  —  when  she 
was  his  wife  and  the  mistress  of  his  household  — 
when  she  was  sure  of  sharing  his  fortunes  until  death 
should  end  further  companionship  —  than  she  had 
been  at  the  hour  when  he  had  first  asked  her  to 
marry  him.  She  had  a  great  sense  of  duty  toward 
him.  She  meant  to  leave  no  obligation  of  wifely 
fealty  unfulfilled.  And  this  determination,  flinch- 
lessly  kept,  must  stand  for  him  in  place  of  passion. 
She  had  no  passion  to  give  him.  She  had  given  all 
that  to  her  dear  dead  father.  If  he  were  alive,  now, 
and  dwelling  with  her,  what  joy  she  would  have  in 
putting  her  arms  about  his  neck,  her  lips  to  his 
cheek,  and  telling  him  how  the  hopes  whose  seed  he 
had  sown  long  ago  might  soon  ripen  into  splendid 
fruit ! 

"  You  tell  me  that  you  have  new  adherents,  new 
friends,"  she  soon  said  to  her  husband.  "  If  any  of 
them  are  people  of  prominence  —  of  the  sort  I  would 


262  AN  AMBITIOUS 

wish  to  know  —  why  do  you  not  ask  them  here,  to 
our  house  ?  " 

"  True  enough,"  said  Hollister.  "  That  is  an  idea." 
And  then,  with  beaming  hesitation,  he  added :  "  But 
I  thought  you  would  not  want  them  without  their 
wives." 

Claire  seemed  to  meditate,  for  a  slight  time.  "  I 
should  not  want  them  without  their  \\ives,"  she  pres 
ently  said,  "  unless  I  felt  sure  that  their  wives  were 
the  kind  of  women  whom  I  would  be  very  willing  to 
have  among  my  acquaintances." 

A  few  days  later  Hollister  announced  to  Claire 
that  he  had  arranged  a  dinner  at  which  some  four 

O 

gentlemen  besides  himself  were  to  be  present.  He 
had  placed  the  whole  affair  in  the  hands  of  a  noted 
restaurateur,  who  assured  him  that  it  should  be  con 
ducted  on  the  most  admirable  plan. 

"  It  was  intended  as  a  little  surprise  for  you,"  he 
said.  "  The  men  are  all  of  the  kind  that  I  am  nearly 
sure  you  will  approve.  I  mean  they  are  what  is 
called  "  in  society."  You  see,  I  am  getting  quite 
wise  with  regard  to  these  matters.  A  few  weeks 
have  made  a  world  of  difference  with  me.  I  am 
waking  up  to  a  sense  of  who  is  who.  Before,  it  was 
all  stupid  treadmill  sort  of  work.  I  cared  very  lit 
tle  about  associates,  connections,  influence.  I  wanted 
to  make  both  ends  meet,  and  found  the  process  a 
rather  dull  one.  Now  I  am  in  a  wholly  different 
frame  of  mind.  I  am  beginning  to  amuse  myself  as 
much  by  the  study  of  men  as  by  the  study  of  stocks. 
I  have  several  distinct  adherents,  several  more  dis 
tinct  supporters,  and  one  or  two  would-be  patrons. 
I  d;>n't  think  I  was  ever  unpopular  on  the  Street ;  I 
was  simply  unimportant.  But  now  that  I'm  impor- 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  263 

tant  I  have  got  to  be  quite  popular.  ...  I  dare  say 
the  whole  thing  is  attributable  to  yourself,  Claire. 
You  Ve  pricked  me  into  life.  I  was  torpid  till  I  met 
and  knew  you." 

She  was  considerably  alarmed  about  the  plan  of 
the  dinner-party.    She  was  not  at  all  sure  if  it  would ' 
be  in  good  style  for  Hollister  to  give  it  with  herself 
as  the  only  lady  present.     As  soon  as  circumstances 
permitted,  she  hastened  to  consult  with  Mrs.  Diggs. 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,"  decided  the  oracle.  "You 
are  always  certain  of  being  correct  form  if  you  do 
anything  like  that  in  company  with  your  husband. 
But,  my  dear  Claire,  it  is  too  bad  that  you  could  n't 
find  three  more  ladies  besides  yourself  and  me.  You 
see,  I  invite  myself  provisionally,  so  to  speak.  Isn't 
it  dreadful  of  me  ?  But  then  I  take  such  an  inter 
est  in  you  that  I  want  to  be  present,  don't  you  know, 
at  the  laying  of  your  corner-stone.  Manhattan  ought 
to  be  asked,  too,  dear  fellow ;  it 's  etiquette,  don't 
you  know?  But  then  you  need  not  mind,  this  once." 

"  I  wish  that  I  knew  three  more  ladies,"  said 
Claire,  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes  .  .  .  that  would  make  a  dinner  of  just  ten. 
A  dinner  of  ten  is  so  charming.  Mr.  Hollister 
would  n't  object,  would  he  ?  " 

Claire  quickly  shook  her  head.  "  Oh,"  she  said, 
"  Herbert  never  objects." 

It  was  so  seriously  spoken  that  Mrs.  Diggs  broke 
into  one  of  her  most  mutinous  laughs.  "  How  de 
licious  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  a  superb  conjugal 
truth  you  condense  in  one  demure  little  epigram  ! 
.  .  .  Well,  if  '  Herbert,'  as  you  say,  '  never  objects,' 
there  is  ...  let  me  see  .  .  .  there  is  Cornelia  Van 
Horn." 


264  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

"  Would  she  come  if  I  asked  her  ?  "  said  Claire. 

"  You  have  n't  asked  her,  so  of  course  you  don't 
know.  Nobody  can  ever  predicate  anything  about 
Cornelia.  But  considering  how  grand  was  her  ami 
ability  at  Coney  Island,  I  should  say  that  .  .  .  Well, 
yes,  I  should  say  that  Cornelia  ivould  come."  Here 
Mrs.  Diggs  raised  one  thin  finger,  and  shook  it  in 
smiling  admonition.  "  That  is,"  she  added,  "  if  you 
call  on  her,  as  she  requested." 

Claire  looked  grave.  "  I  will  call  on  her,"  she  at 
length  said.  "  I  have  not  felt  sure  whether  I  would 
or  no.  I  did  not  like  her  way  of  asking  me,  or  her 
manner  beforehand.  .  .  .  But  I  will  call  on  her,  pro 
vided  there  are  two  other  ladies."  Plere  she  paused 
a  moment,  and  then  proceeded  with  decision.  "  But 
of  course  there  are  no  other  two  ladies.  At  least, 
not  yet." 

Mrs.  Diggs's  eyes  were  sparkling  most  humorously. 
"I  don't  know  why  it  is,"  she  exclaimed,  "that  you 
always  entertain  me  so  when  you  talk  of  Cousin  Cor 
nelia.  There  's  a  latent  pugnaciousness  in  the  very 
way  that  you  mention  her  name.  It  seems  to  be 
fated  that  you  and  she  shall  become  dire  foes.  She  's 
so  big  and  mighty  that  I  'm  always  reminded,  when 
you  discuss  her,  of  dauntless  little  David,  with  his 
sling  and  stone,  marching  against  the  doughty  old 
giant.  .  .  .  As  for  our  one  other  lady,  Claire,  how 
about  Mrs.  Arcularius  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Arcularius?     Why,  we  have  quarreled." 

"  Nonsense.  You  snubbed  her  mildly.  I  don't 
doubt  that  she  will  come.  Women  at  her  time  of 
life  have  survived  nearly  every  sentiment  except  that 
of  appetite.  Ten  to  one  that  she  will  scent  the  odor 
of  a  good  dinner,  and  come,  as  your  dear  former  in 
structress,  and  all  that,  don't  you  know  ?  " 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  265 

"Very  well,"  said  Claire,  with  gravity  ;  "I  might 
ask  her.  But  then  there  would  be  the  fifth  lady.  I 
am  afraid  that  she  is  not  to  be  found." 

Mrs.  Diggs  put  one  slim  hand  to  one  pale  temple, 
and  drooped  her  bright  eyes.  "  I  have  it !  "  she  pres 
ently  exclaimed.  "  There  is  my  other  cousin,  Jane 
Van  Corlear.  We  won't  ask  Jane  until  we  are  sure 
of  the  others.  Then  we  shall  be  certain  of  getting 
her  to  fill  the  vacant  place.  You  remember  her  at 
Coney  Island,  don't  you  ?  No  ?  Well,  in  a  certain 
sense  nobody  ever  remembers  poor  Jane,  and  nobody 
ever  forgets  her.  She  has  been  a  widow  for  years, 
like  Cornelia.  But  she  never  asserts  herself.  She  is 
tallowy,  obese,  complaisant.  She  rarely  goes  any 
where,  and  yet  she  leaves  a  sort  of  aristocratic  trail 
wherever  she  has  been.  She  will  accept  if  I  tell  her 
to;  she  always  gives  in  to  me,  though  in  her  slug 
gish  way  I  know  she  thinks  me  objectionable.  Poor 
Jane  is  a  perfect  goose,  and  yet  I  dote  on  her.  She 
is  such  a  dear,  consistent,  inoffensive,  companionable 
goose,  don't  you  know?  Claire,  your  dinner-party 
is  entirely  arranged." 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  said  Claire,  dubiously. 

The  next  day  she  and  Mrs.  Diggs  concocted  the 
invitations  together.  On  the  day  following,  the  two 
ladies  whom  they  had  asked  each  sent  a  courteous, 
conventional  refusal. 

Mrs.  Van  Horn  gave  no  reason  for  her  refusal. 
Mrs.  Arcularius  mentioned  a  previous  engagement  as 
the  reason  of  her  non-acceptance. 

"  You  see,"  said  Claire,  to  her  fallacious  counselor, 
"  our  ladies  are  not  obtainable,  after  all." 

She  was  secretly  chagrined ;  but  Mrs.  Diggs 
showed  herself  openly  so.  "  It  is  too  bad !  "  declared 


266  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

the  latter.  "  I  've  a  lurking  belief  in  the  authenticity 
of  Mrs.  Arcularius's  '  previous  engagement.'  As  for 
Cornelia,  I  suspect  pique  at  your  not  having  been  to 
visit  her.  But  we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see,  re 
garding  Mrs.  Van  Horn.  Of  course  our  little  dinner 
is  ruined.  You  must  preside  as  the  only  woman, 
Claire,  and  I  don't  doubt  you  will  do  it  charmingly. 
But  I  shall  drop  in  upon  Cornelia  to-morrow,  and  try 
to  sound  the  unfathomable." 

Mrs.  Diggs  did  so,  and  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
same  day  she  sought  out  Claire,  filled  with  her  recent 
exploring  skirmish. 

"She  received  me,  my  dear  Claire,  with  a  great 
deal  of  high-nosed  graciousness.  I  had  n't  been  three 
minutes  in  her  presence  before  I  felt  that  her  cold, 
serene  eyes  were  reading  me  through  and  through. 
She  mentioned  you  herself ;  she  made  it  a  point  to 
do  so.  She  spoke  of  you  as  that  pretty  young  woman 
whom  Beverley  used  to  know.  Then  she  recollected 
that  you  had  asked  her  to  dinner.  '  But  of  course  I 
could  not  accept,'  she  said,  with  her  best  sort  of  ducal 
look.  '  I  do  not  really  know  your  friend.  I  have 
met  her  only  once,  and  then  for  a  few  minutes.'  She 
wanted  to  change  the  conversation,  after  that ;  she 
has  vast  tact  in  thefway  of  changing  conversations ; 
great  leaders  like  herself  always  have.  But  I 
wouldn't  put  up  with  that  at  all.  I  am  usually  a 
good  deal  awed  by  Cornelia.  But  I  made  up  my 
mind  not  to  be  awed  to-day  at  any  hazard.  I  re 
minded  her  that  she  had  sought  to  know  you  and 
asked  you  to  visit  her.  I  showed  her  that  I  would  n't 
stand  her  delicate  rapier-thrusts.  I  swung  a  blud 
geon,  and  I  flatter  myself  that  I  swung  it  rather  well. 
I  told  her  that  she  had  given  you  a  perfect  right  to 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  267 

invite  her.  I  told  her  that  you  had  treated  her  with 
unusual  courtesy,  and  that  instead  of  leaving  a  slip  of 
meaningless  pasteboard  with  her  footman,  you  had 
resolved  on  the  more  honest  and  significant  civility 
of  asking  her  to  dinner.  Moreover,  I  added,  the  fact 
of  her  brother  having  been  your  most  intimate  friend 
had  rendered,  to  my  thinking,  the  civility  a  still  more 
kindly  and  genuine  one." 

"  You  must  have  made  her  very  angry,"  said 
Claire,  with  a  peculiar  fleeting  smile. 

"Angry?  She  was  in  a  white  heat.  She  could 
never  be  in  a  red  one,  don't  you  know,  she  is  so  con 
stitutionally  placid  and  chill.  She  replied  that  you 
had  actually  attempted  to  offer  her  patronage,  and 
that  your  effort  had  amused  her  not  a  little." 

"Did  she  say  that  ?  "  questioned  Claire,  with  a  cer 
tain  quick  eagerness.  "Then  I  was  right  at  first. 
She  had  some  unpleasant  purpose  in  wanting  me  to 
visit  her." 

"  Good  gracious  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Diggs  ;  "  you 
never  suggested  such  a  thing  before  !  " 

Claire  had  grown  very  grave  and  calm  again. 
"  Did  I  not  ?  "  she  said.  "  Well,  I  had  supposed  it. 
It  was  a  sort  of  fancy." 

Mrs.  Diggs  took  one  of  Claire's  hands  and  held  it, 
at  the  same  time  giving  her  an  intent  look. 

"  You  're  keeping  something  from  me,"  she  said. 
"Yes,  Claire,  I  know  you  are.  .  .  .  Did  Beverley 
Thurston  ever  ask  you  to  marry  him  ?  " 

Claire  colored  to  the  roots  of  her  rich-tinted  tresses. 
She  tried  to  draw  her  hand  away,  but  Mrs.  Diggs 
still  retained  it. 

"  He  did  !  "  exclaimed  her  friend.  "  Your  com 
plexion  tells  me  so !  Everything  is  explained  now. 


268  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

You  refused  Beverley.  Yes,  my  dear,  you  refused 
him.  And  she  somehow  got  wind  of  it.  Perhaps 
Beverley  told,  or  perhaps  his  complexion,  like  yours, 
divulged  secrets,  don't  you  know?  .  .  .  And  yet, 
on  second  thought,  Beverley's  complexion  could  do 
nothing  so  expressive ;  it  is  too  battered  and  world- 
worn  ;  its  capability  for  blushing  is  entirely  null.  .  .  . 
No,  he  told  her.  And  she  has  not  forgiven  you,  and 
never  will.  Her  monstrous  pride  would  not  permit 
her  to  do  so.  I  understand  everything,  now.  You 
remember  what  I  told  you  about  her  clannish  feeling 
—  how  she  loves  to  quietly  exalt  her  family  name? 
.  .  .  Ah,  my  dear  Claire,  you  have  committed,  in  her 
eyes,  the  great  unpardonable  sin.  I  was  right ;  I  felt 
it  to  be  in  the  air  that  you  and  she  would  prove 
enemies.  I  begin  to  think  myself  a  sort  of  haphazard 
sibyl ;  I  divined  what  would  happen,  and  it  has  hap 
pened.  You  have  presumed  to  refuse  her  brother, 
and  Cornelia  knows  it.  Prepare  to  be  crushed/' 

Claire  lightly  tossed  her  graceful  head,  and  her  lip 
curled  a  little  as  she  did  so. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  prepared  to  be  crushed,"  she  said. 
"  Mrs.  Van  Horn  has  spoiled  our  prospective  dinner 
party,  as  regards  ladies,  but  she  has  not  spoiled  me." 

"  Delightful ! "  declared  Mrs.  Diggs,  softly  clap 
ping  her  hands.  "  That 's  the  spirit  I  like  to  see. 
The  fight  has  begun  ;  it 's  going  to  be  serious.  But 
remember  that  I  am.  always  your  devoted  auxil 
iary!"  .  .  . 

The  dinner  took  place.  There  were  no  ladies 
present  except  Claire  herself.  It  was  an  extremely 
elegant  dinner.  Claire  rose  when  coffee  was  being 
served,  and  left  the  gentlemen  together.  She  per 
formed,  so  to  speak,  her  unaided  office  of  hostess  with 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  269 

singular  charm  and  dignity.  And  during  the  prog 
ress  of  the  dinner  she  made  a  friend. 

This  was  Mr.  Stuart  Goldwin.  Everybody  in 
Wall  Street  knew  Stuart  Goldwin.  He  had  drifted 
into  that  stormy  region  of  risk  about  four  years  ago. 
He  had  so  drifted  from  a  remote  New  England  town, 
and  his  speculative  successes  had  been  phenomenal. 
He  was  reputed  to  be  worth,  at  present,  a  good  many 
millions  of  dollars.  He  had  acquired  an  enormous 
influence  among  his  constituents  ;  he  was  the  reign 
ing  Wall  Street  King.  But  he  had  none  of  the  vuk 
garity  which  had  marked  a  few  of  his  immediate 
predecessors ;  he  had  always  shown  a  full  apprecia 
tion  of  his  royalty  and  the  duties  resultant  from  it. 
He  had  been  admitted,  with  singular  promptness,  into 
the  social  holy  of  holies ;  he  was  hand  in  glove  with 
what  are  termed  the  best  people;  he  belonged  to 
three  or  four  of  the  most  select  clubs ;  his  circle  of 
acquaintances  had  rapidly  become  huge.  Women 
liked  him  as  much  as  men.  He  was  personally  the 
type  of  man  whom  women  like.  His  frame  was  tall 
and  imposing ;  he  wore  a  large  tawny  mustache, 
which  drooped  with  silky  abundance  below  a  deli 
cately-cut  nostril.  His  eyes  were  large,  and  of  a  soft, 
glistening  hazel.  His  manners  were  full  of  a  fascinat 
ing  frankness.  His  age  was  about  forty  years,  but 
he  might  have  passed  for  considerably  younger. 
Books  had  not  fed  his  rapid  and  distinctive  intelli 
gence,  for  he  had  no  time  to  read  them ;  and  yet  he 
had  caught  the  reverberation,  as  it  were,  of  the  best 
and  newest  ideas  announced  by  the  best  and  newest 
writers. 

Claire  thought  him  delightful.  He,  in  turn, 
thought  her  even  more  than  this,  She  was  a  dis« 


270  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

covery  to  him.  He  had  never  married,  and  he  was 
fond  of  saying,  in  his  blithe,  epigrammatic  way,  that 
half  womankind  was  so  enchanting  to  him  as  to  have 
made,  in  his  own  case,  anything  except  the  most 
Oriental  polygamy  quite  out  of  the  question.  He 
had  wit  in  no  small  store,  but  when  he  liked  a  woman 
greatly  it  was  his  most  deft  of  arts  to  keep  this  in 
very  judicious  reserve,  and  employ  it  only  as  a  means 
of  subtly  wooing  forth  the  mental  sparkle  of  her  to 
whom  he  paid  court. 

Claire  found  herself  vain,  in  a  covert  way,  of  her 
own  conversational  gifts,  before  she  had  talked  with 
Goldwin  more  than  twenty  minutes.  She  would 
have  liked  to  talk  with  him  exclusively  during  the 
dinner,  but  her  two  other  guests  were  persons  of  im 
portance  who  ought  not  to  receive  her  impolitic  neg 
lect.  She  managed  matters  with  tact  and  skill. 
Everybody  thought  her  charming  when  she  glided 
from  the  dining-room,  in  decorous  retreat  before  that 
little  anti-feminine  bayonet,  the  after-dinner  cigar. 
She  had  made  a  distinct  success.  She  felt  it  as  she 
sat  in  the  drawing-room,  waiting  for  the  gentlemen 
to  ascend  and  join  her. 

Goldwin  had  not  deceived  her.  She  read  him  with 
lucid  insight.  She  saw  him  to  be  imposingly  super 
ficial  ;  she  perceived  him  to  be  a  man  whose  polished 
filigrees  would  ring  hollow  at  so  much  as  one  sincere 
tap  of  the  finger-nail.  lie  was  agreeable  to  her,  but 
not  admirable  ;  he  captivated,  but  he  did  not  dazzle 
her.  She  compared  him  with  Beverley  Thurston 
(never  thinking  to  compare  him  with  her  husband), 
and  noted  all  the  more  clearly  his  lack  of  genuine 
and  manly  magnitude.  He  came  and  joined  her  be 
fore  any  of  the  other  gentlemen.  His  face  was  a 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  271 

little  flushed  from  the  wine  he  had  taken,  but  with 
no  unbecoming  suggestion  of  excess. 

"  I  could  n't  stay  away  from  you,"  he  said,  sinking 
into  a  happy,  half-lounging  posture  on  the  sofa  at 
her  side.  He  was  faultlessly  dressed,  in  garments  that 
seemed  to  accept  every  bend  of  his  fine  moulded  fig 
ure  without  a  wrinkle  of  their  dark,  flexible  surface. 
"  Your  husband  smokes  the  nicest  sort  of  cigar,  but 
he  has  another  possession  that  seems  to  me  vastly 
superior."  Then  he  broke  into  a  mellow  laugh,  and 
waved  one  hand  hither  and  thither,  with  an  air  of 
mock  explanation.  "  I  allude  to  this  beautiful  little 
drawing-room,"  he  continued. 

His  mirthful  sidelong  look  made  Claire  echo  his 
laugh.  "  I  will  tell  Herbert  how  much  you  like  it," 
she  said ;  "  he  will  be  so  pleased  to  know." 

"  Pray  do  nothing  of  the  sort !  "  he  expostulated, 
with  a  good  deal  of  comic  seriousness.  "  I  should 
never  forgive  you  if  you  did.  Husbands  are  such 
oddly  jealous  fellows.  There  is  no  telling  what  in 
nocent  little  outburst  of  esteem  may  sometimes  of 
fend  them." 

Claire  thought  the  time  had  come  for  a  decisive 
parry,  in  the  parlance  of  fencers.  "  Oh,  Herbert  is 
not  at  all  jealous,"  she  said,  measuring  the  words 
just  enough  not  to  make  them  seem  out  of  accord 
with  her  bright  smile.  "  He  has  never  had  the  least 
occasion  to  be,  I  assure  you." 

He  fixed  his  eyes  with  soft  intentness  on  her 
sweet,  blooming  face.  "Never?"  he  questioned, 
quite  low  of  tone. 

"  Never,"  she  answere  1,  gently  laconic. 

"  But  he  might  take  some  stupid  pretext  .  .  .  who 
knows  ?  " 


272  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  Ob,  if  he  did  I  would  soon  show  him  the  stu 
pidity  of  it.  We  understand  each  other  excel 
lently." 

They  talked  on  for  at  least  a  half  hour.  The 
other  gentlemen  'remained  below.  Goldwin  made 
no  more  daring  complimentary  hazards.  He  listened 
quite  as  much  as  he  talked.  Their  converse  turned 
upon  social  matters  —  upon  what  sort  of  a  season  it 
would  be  —  upon  the  coining  opera  —  upon  the  na 
ture  of  New  York  entertainments  — -  upon  the  men 
and  women  who  were  to  give  them.  Claire  made  it 
very  plain  to  him  that  she  wanted  to  enter  the  gay 
lists.  She  at  length  said  :  — 

"  Do  you  know  Mrs.  Van  Horn  ?  " 

Goldwin  laughed.  "  Why  don't  you  ask  me  if  I 
know  the  City  Hall,"  he  said,  "  or  the  Stock  Ex 
change  ?  Of  course  I  know  her." 

"Do  you  like  her?" 

"  Nobody  ever  likes  her.     Who  likes  statues  ?  " 

"  People  sometimes  worship  them." 

"  Oh,  she  is  a  good  deal  worshiped,  if  you  mean 
that." 

Hollister  and  his  two  remaining  guests  now  ap 
peared.  Claire  re-welcomed  both  the  latter  gentle 
men  with  beaming  suavity.  They  were  both  im 
portant  personages,  as  it  has  been  recorded.  They 
both  had  important  wives,  to  whom  they  repairec^  a 
little  later,  and  to  whom  they  loudly  sang  praises  of 
Claire's  loveliness.  The  remarks  of  each  took  sub 
stantially  the  same  form,  and  the  following  might 
be  given  as  their  connubial  and  somewhat  florid  aver 
age:— 

"  That  fellow  Hollister's  wife,  you  know.  The 
man  I  dined  with  to-night.  Didn't  know  he  had  a 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  273 

wife?  Well,  you'd  have  known  it  if  you'd  been 
there.  She  's  a  splendid  young  creature.  Handsome 
as  a  picture,  and  good  style,  too.  By  the  way, 
Stuart  Goldwin  was  there  ;  you  know  how  hard  it  is 
to  get  him.  I  should  n't  wonder  if  these  Hollisters 
were  going  to  make  a  dash  for  society,  soon.  Now, 
don't  repeat  it,  my  dear,  but  the  fact  is,  this  Hollis- 
ter  can  be  of  considerable  service  to  me  in  a  business 
way.  There  's  no  use  of  going  into  particulars,  for 
women  never  understand  business.  But  ...  if  any 
thing  should  occur  —  any  card  be  left,  I  mean,  you 
may  be  sure  what  my  wishes  are.  .  .  .  Oh,  of  course ; 
look  sour,  and  refuse  point  blank.  Bless  my  soul, 
when  did  you  ever  do  anything  to  help  along  my 
interests  ?  You  '11  spend  the  money  fast  enough,  but 
you  won't  turn  a  hand  to  help  me  make  it.  All 
right ;  do  as  you  please.  Hollister  is  to-day  the  most 
rising  young  man  on  the  Street.  There  's  a  regular 
boom  on  him.  He 's  got  Goldwin  for  a  friend.  You 
must  know  what  that  means." 

Both  ladies  did  know  what  it  meant.  Both  ladies 
had  looked  sour,  but  both  in  due  time  entertained 
their  afterthoughts.  They  were  ladies  of  high  fash 
ion,  each  prominent  within  an  exclusive  clique. 
They  were  not  powerful  enough  to  indorse  any  new 
struggler  for  position  ;  their  own  right  of  tenure  was 
not  unassailable.  They  dreaded  this  Mrs.  Hollister, 
as  it  were,  but  they  secretly  resolved  that  it  would 
be  folly  to  ignore  her.  Meanwhile  a  certain  inter 
view,  held  by  Stuart  Goldwin  with  a  certain  lady 
of  his  acquaintance,  was  of  quite  different  character. 
Goldwin  did  not  reach  the  house  of  Mrs.  Ridgeway 
Lee  until  some  time  after  ten  o'clock.  It  was  an  ex 
ceedingly  pretty  house.  Its  drawing-room,  though 
18 


274  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

as  small  as  Claire's,  must  by  comparison  have  put 
the  latter  completely  into  the  shade.  It  was  an 
exquisite  artistic  commingling  of  all  that  was  rare 
and  fine  in  upholstery  and  general  embellishment. 
Mrs.  Ridgeway  Lee,  too,  was  in  a  manner  rare  and 
fine.  She  rose  from  a  deep  cachemire  lounge  to 
receive  Goldwin.  She  was  dressed  in  crimson,  with 
a  great  cluster  of  white  and  crimson  roses  at  her 
breast.  She  pretended  to  be  annoyed  that  he  should 
have  presumed  to  come  so  late.  She  had  the  last 
French  novel  in  her  hand,  pressed  against  her  heart, 
as  though  she  loved  its  allurements  and  disliked 
being  thus  drawn  from  them.  Goldwin  knew  per 
fectly  well  that  she  had  expected  him,  that  she  was 
very  glad  he  had  como.  He  often  wondered  to  him 
self  why  he  did  not  ask  her  to  be  his  wife.  She  was 
passionately  in  love  with  him  ;  she  had  been  a  widow 
almost  since  girlhood.  She  had  a  great  deal  of 
money,  for  which  he  cared  nothing,  and  a  great  deal 
of  beauty,  for  which  he  could  not  help  but  care.  She 
had  almost  seriously  compromised  herself  by  permit 
ting  him  to  show  her  attentions  whose  intimacy,  in 
the  judgment  of  the  world,  should  long  ago  either 
have  ceased  entirely  or  else  have  assumed  matrimo 
nial  permanence. 

Yet  she  was  a  woman  who  could,  to  a  certain  de 
gree,  compromise  herself  with  impunity.  Her  connec 
tions  were  all  people  of  high  place.  She  was  distantly 
related  to  Mrs.  Diggs  and  nearly  related  to  Mrs.  Van 
Horn,  who  felt  toward  her  that  fondness  which  may 
exist  between  a  queen  and  a  lady-in-waiting.  Apart 
from  this,  she  was  a  social  dignitary.  Her  artificiality 
was  more  plainly  manifest  than  that  of  Goldwin,  and 
it  had  become  a  commonplace  among  her  friends  to 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  275 

say  that  she  was  affected.  But  she  had  made  her  af 
fectation  a  kind  of  fashion ;  other  women  had  so  liked 
the  peculiar  flutter  of  her  lids,  the  drawl  of  her 
voice,  the  erratic  movements  and  extraordinary  poses 
of  her  body,  that  they  had  imitated  these  with  disas 
trous  fidelity.  She  said  clever,  daring,  insolent,  or 
amiable  things  all  in  the  same  slow,  measured  way, 
and  generally  managed  to  leave  an  impression  that 
a  fund  of  unuttered  experience  or  observation  lay  be 
hind  them.  She  was  prodigiously  pious  for  one  of 
her  pleasure-loving  nature.  Her  charity  was  liberal 
and  incessant.  She  trailed  her  Parisian  robes  through 
the  wards  of  hospitals,  or  lifted  them  in  the  ill-smell 
ing  haunts  of  dying  paupers.  Her  religion  and  her 
charity  went  hand  in  hand.  For  some  people  they 
were  both  shams  ;  for  others  they  were  ostentation, 
half  founded  upon  sincerity  ;  for  others  they  implied 
a  feverish  craving  to  drown  the  remorse  born  of  per 
sistent  indiscretions;  and  still  for  others  they  were 
an  intoxication,  indulged  in  by  one  who  did  nothing 
half-way,  and  resorted  to  as  some  women  drug  them 
selves  with  opium,  chloral,  or  alcohol.  She  denounced 
the  new  intellectual  tendency  among  social  equals 
of  her  own  sex,  as  something  wholly  terrible ;  sho 
frowned  upon  it  no  less  darkly  than  her  kinswoman, 
Mrs.  Van  Horn,  but  for  a  different  reason.  Its  occa 
sional  lapses  into  rationalistic  and  unorthodox  thought 
roused  her  dismay  find  ire. 

"  Science,"  she  would  say,  in  her  grave,  loitering 
manner,  "  is  perfectly  splendid.  I  adore  it.  I  read 
books  about  it  all  the  time."  (There  were  those 
who  roundly  asserted  that  she  did  not  know  proto 
plasm  from  evolution.)  "  But  this  confusing  it  with 
religion  is  simply  blasphemous  and  awful.  I  have 


276  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

the  profoundest  pity  for  all  who  do  not  believe  de 
voutly.  I  wish  I  could  build  asylums  for  them,  and 
visit  them,  as  I  do  my  sick  and  my  poor  ! " 

Goldwin  always  listened  to  these  melancholy  out 
bursts  with  a  twinkling  eye.  She  had  long  since 
ceased  to  try  and  convert  him  to  her  High  Church 
ritualisms.  He  would  never  go  to  church  with  her 
and  witness,  in  the  edifice  which  she  attended,  the 
Episcopal  ceremonial  imitate,  as  he  said,  the  Roman 
Catholic  ceremonial  just  as  far  as  it  dared  and  no 
further.  But  he  would  never  have  gone  to  any 
church  with  her,  and  she  knew  it,  and  mourned  him 
as  ungodly.  That  was  the  way,  some  of  her  foes  as 
serted,  in  which  she  made  love  to  him  :  she  mourned 
him  as  ungodly. 

But  she  showed  no  signs  of  making  love  to  him  to 
night.  She  received  him,  as  was  already  stated,  with 
a  shocked  air. 

"  It  is  dreadfully  late,"  she  said,  giving  him  her 
hand.  "  You  ought  not  to  do  it.  You  know  that 
you  ought  not  to  do  it." 

He  kept  her  hand  until  she  had  again  seated  her 
self  on  the  cacheinire  lounge.  Then  he  sat  down  be 
side  her. 

Her  type  of  beauty  had  been  called  that  of  a  ser 
pent.  It  was  true  that  her  present  posture  on  tho 
lounge  oddly  resembled  a  sort  of  coil.  Her  face 
wore  at  nearly  all  times  a  warm*  paleness ;  its  color, 
or  rather  its  lack  of  color,  had  little  variation.  Her 
hair  was  black  as  night ;  her  eyes  luminous,  large, 
and  very  dark ;  her  head  small,  her  figure  lissome  and 
extremely  sh-nder,  her  shoulders  narrow  and  falling. 
She  could  not  be  ungraceful,  and  her  grace  was  al 
ways  what  in  another  woman  would  have  been  called 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  277 

unique  awkwardness.  She  appeared,  now,  to  be  gaz- 
inf  at  Goldwin  across  one  shoulder.  Her  crimson 

o 

dress  was  in  a  tight  whorl  about  her  feet.  She  had 
a  twisted  look,  which  in  any  one  else  would  have  sug 
gested  an  imperiled  anatomy.  But  you  somehow  ac 
cepted  her  at  first  sight  as  capable  of  a  picturesque 
elasticity  denied  to  commoner  physiques. 

"  I  dropped  in  only  for  a  minute,"  said  Goldwin. 
"  I  wanted  to  tell  you  about  the  dinner." 

"Well?     Was  it  nice?" 

"  Immensely.  There  was  only  one  woman,  but  a 
marvelous  woman.  She  is  Hollister's  wife.  I  feel 
as  if  I  'd  been  hearing  a  new  opera  by  Gounod. 
Don't  ask  me  to  describe  her." 

Mrs.  Lee  was  watching  the  speaker's  face  with 
great  intentness.  It  was  a  face  that  she  knew  very 
well ;  she  had  given  it  several  years  of  close  study. 

"  She  is  handsome,  then  ?  " 

"  She 's  exquisite.  She  is  going  to  take  things  by 
storm  this  winter.  She  wants  to  do  it,  too.  And  I 
mean  to  help  her." 

"  Who  was  she  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  And  I  don't  care.  I  'm  her  de 
voted  friend.  I  hope  you  will  be.  I  want  you  to 
call  on  her." 

"  Are  you  crazy  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Lee.  She  said  it  so 
quietly  and  slowly,  as  was  her  wont  to  say  all  things, 
that  she  might  have  been  making  the  most  ordinary 
of  queries. 

"  Yes,"  laughed  Goldwin,  "  quite  out  of  my  head." 

"  Do  you  think  I  will  go  and  see  a  woman  I  don't 
know,  merely  because  you  ask  me  to  do  it  ?  " 

He  let  his  eyes  dwell  steadily  upon  her  pale,  small, 
piquant  face,  lifted  above  the  long,  rounded  throat, 


278  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

on  which  sparkled  a  slim  gorget  of  rubies,  to  match 
her  dress. 

"  You  've  done  things  that  I  wanted  you  to  do  be 
fore  now,"  he  said  softly.  "  You  '11  do  this,  I  am 
sure." 

She  put  one  hand  on  his  arm.  The  hand  was  so 
tiny  and  white  that  it  seemed  to  rest  there  as  lightly 
as  a  drifted  blossom.  "  Will  you  tell  me  all  about 
her  ?  "  she  said,  in  her  measiuvd  way. 

"I  told  you  that  I  couldn't  describe  her.  She's 
like  flowers  that  I  've  seen  ;  she 's  like  music  that 
I  've  heard  ;  she  is  like  perfumes  that  I  have  smelt. 
There  's  poetry  for  you.  You  're  fond  of  poetry,  you 
say." 

She  still  kept  her  hand  on  his  arm.  He  had  very 
rarely  praised  a  woman  in  her  hearing.  He  had 
never  before  praised  one  in  this  fashion. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  one  thing  more  ? "  she  said. 
"  Have  you  fallen  in  love  with  her  ?  " 

Goldwin  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed.    "Good 

O 

heavens ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  she  is  a  married  woman, 
and  her  husband  worships  her." 

"  Will  you  answer  my  question  ?  "  persisted  Mrs. 
Lee. 

"  Yes,"  said  Goldwin,  suddenly  jumping  up  from 
the  lounge.  "  She  is  tremendously  fond  of  her  hus 
band.  There  .  .  .  your  question  is  answered." 


XVI. 

RATHER  early  the  next  morning,  Mrs.  Diggs 
dropped  in  upon  Claire,  "to  hear  all  about  it,"  as 
she  said,  alluding  to  the  dinner-party. 

She  dismissed  two  of  the  gentlemen  with  two  little 
contemptuous  nods.  "  They  are  both  well  enough  in 
point  of  respectability,"  she  affirmed.  "  So  are  their 
wives.  All  four  are  so  swathed  in  dull  convention 
that  you  even  forget  to  criticise  them ;  they  're  like 
animals  which  resemble  the  haunts  they  inhabit  to 
such  a  degree  that  you  can  tell  them  from  the  sur 
rounding  foliage  or  furrows,  only  when  they  move  or 
show  life.  Whom  else  did  you  have  ?  " 

"  There  was  Mr.  Stuart  Goldwin,"  said  Claire. 

"  Goldwin  ?  You  don't  mean  it,  really?  Did  you 
have  Goldwin  ?  "  Here  Mrs.  Diggs  looked  hard  at 
Claire,  and  slowly  shook  her  head.  "  My  dear,"  she 
went  on,  "  it  must  indeed  be  true  that  your  husband 
is  achieving  great  financial  distinction.  Pardon  my 
saying  it,  Claire,  but  Goldwin  wouldn't  have  put 
his  limbs  under  your  mahogany  if  this  had  not  been 
true.  He 's  an  enormous  personage.  Other  Wall 
Street  grandees  have  been  very  small  pygmies  in  the 
social  estimate.  But  Goldwin  carries  everything  be 
fore  him.  You  need  n't  tell  me  that  you  like  him. 
It  would  be  something  abnormal  if  you  did  n't.  He 
is  really  the  most  charming  of  men.  You  can't  trust 


280  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

him,  don't  you  know,  further  than  you  can  see  him ; 
he  bristles  with  all  sorts  of  humbug.  And  yet  you 
accept  him,  because  it  is  such  well-bred,  engaging 
humbug.  He  has  hosts  of  adherents,  and  he  de 
serves  them.  He  gives  the  most  enchanting  enter 
tainments.  They  are  never  vulgar,  and  yet  they  cost 
vast  sums.  For  example,  he  will  give  a  Delmonico 
dinner,  at  which  every  lady  finds  a  diamond-studded 
locket  hid  modestly  in  the  heart  of  her  bouquet.  I 
need  not  add  that  in  a  matrimonial  way  he  is  simply 
groveled  to.  But  beware  of  him,  my  dear  Claire; 
he  is  dangerous." 

"  Dangerous  ?  "  repeated  Claire. 

"Well,  not  so  much  in  himself.  Goldwin,  in  him 
self,  is  a  shallow  yet  clever  man,  a  forcible  yet  weak 
man,  a  man  whose  pluck  has  aided  him  a  good  deal, 
and  whose  luck  has  aided  him  still  more.  He  has 
caught  the  trick  of  looking  like  a  prince,  and  hence 
of  giving  his  princely  amassment  of  money  a  superb 
glamour.  He  will  fade,  some  day,  and  leave  not  a 
rack  behind.  Of  course  he  will.  They  all  do.  I 
don't  know  that  he  would  if  he  married.  And  now 
I  come  to  my  previous  point.  He  does  n't  marry  ; 
therefore,  he  is  dangerous." 

"  I  don't  follow  you,"  Claire  said. 

"  He  does  n't  marry  Mrs.  Ridgeway  Lee.  That  is 
what  I  mean.  As  it  is,  she  guards  his  approaches. 
She  is  a  woman  of  high  position,  considerable  queer, 
uncanny  beauty,  monstrous  affectation,  and  a  fond 
ness  for  him  that  amounts  to  idolatry.  She 's  the 
most  intense  of  pietists  ;  she  riots  in  all  sorts  of  re 
ligious  charities.  She  has  other  idolatries  besides 
Goldwin,  but  he  is  her  foremost.  I  have  never  been 
just  able  to  make  her  out.  She  is  a  sort  of  cousin 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  281 

of  mine.  She  's  wonderfully  handsome,  but  it 's  the 
lean,  cold  beauty  of  a  snake.  As  I  said,  she  guards 
Goldwin's  approaches.  She  's  a  widow,  and  a  rich 
one,  and  she  wants  Goldwin  to  ask  her  to  marry  him. 
lie  doesn't,  however,  and  hence  she  coils  herself,  so 
to  speak,  at  the  threshold  of  his  acquaintance.  If 
any  other  woman  draws  near —  I  mean,  too  near  — 
she  hisses  and  bites.  .  .  .  Oh,  don't  look  incredulous. 
I  've  known  her  to  positively  do  both.  She  '11  do  it 
to  you,  if  Goldwin  is  too  attentive.  That  is  why  I 
warn  you  ;  that  is  why  I  call  that  nice,  brilliant, 
headlong,  gentlemanly  Goldwin  a  dangerous  man." 

In  a  few  more  days  Hollister,  of  his  own  accord, 
proposed  to  Claire  that  she  should  engage  a  maid. 
lie  also  told  her  that  he  had  made  purchase  of  two 
carriages,  a  span  of  horses,  and  an  extra  horse  for 
single  harness  besides. 

"  You  will  be  able  to  drive  out,  either  in  your 
coupe  or  your  larger  carriage,  my  dear,"  he  said,  "  by 
Wednesday  next."  Then  he  broke  into  one  of  his 
most  genial  laughs,  and  added :  "  I  hope  that  is  not 
too  long  to  wait." 

Claire  took  this  prophecy  of  coming  splendor  with 
serious  quietude.  She  had  talked  with  her  husband 
regarding  his  recent  plethoric  influx  of  thousands. 

"  I  've  an  idea,  Herbert,"  she  said,  using  a  slow, 
wise-seeming  deliberation.  "  It  is  this  :  why  do  you 
not  buy  our  house  ?  We  both  like  it ;  it  is  comfort 
able  and  agreeable  ;  it  fills  all  our  wants.  And  it  is 
for  sale,  you  know." 

Hollister  looked  grave,  then  smiled,  then  affirma 
tively  nodded. 

"  I  '11  do  it,  Claire,"  he  answered.  "  I  '11  do  it  to 
morrow,  if  you  wish." 


282  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  I  do  wish,  Herbert.  And  when  you  have  bought 
the  house,  I  want  you  to  put  it  in  my  name.  I  want 
you  to  give  it  to  me" 

He  started,  and  stared  at  her.  A  gleam  of  distrust 
appeared  to  slip  coldly  into  his  frank  eyes.  Claire 
saw  this,  but  answered  his  look  with  firm  calm. 
"Why  do  you  say  that?"  he  murmured. 

She  went  nearer  to  him,  and  laid  one  hand  on  his 
shoulder.  "  Why  do  I  say  it  ?  "  she  softly  iterated. 
"  Because  I  know  something  of  the  risks  and  perils 
you  are  daily  forced  to  meet." 

He  watched  her  intently  and  soberly,  for  a  few 
seconds,  after  she  had  thus  spoken.  Then  his  char 
acteristic  smile  broke  forth  like  a  burst  of  sun.  lie 
kissed  her  on  the  lips.  "It  shall  be  just  as  you  say  !  " 
he  exclaimed,  drawing  her  nearer  to  him,  with  a  look 
which  they  of  bids  and  sales  and  stock-traffic  had 
never  seen  on  his  manly  yet  winsome  face.  "  You 
are  right.  You  are  always  right,  Claire.  There's  a 
lot  of  money  drifting  in ;  it  seems  as  if  the  money 
would  never  stop  drift  ing  in." 

"  I  hope  it  never  will,"  said  Claire,  showing  her 
pure  teeth  in  a  laugh,  as  he  again  kissed  her.  At 
the  same  time  she  drew  back  from  him  while  his  en 
circling  arm  still  retained  her,  in  a  way  to  which 
he  had  grown  wholly  familiar,  and  which,  in  an  un- 
wedded  woman,  would  have  readily  seemed  like  the 
reserve  of  absolute  maidenhood. 

A  slight  further  lapse  of  days  brought  grand  re 
sults  for  Claire.  She  was  legally  the  owner  of  the 
charming  little  house  in  which  she  dwelt  ;  she  had 
her  maid,  obsequiously  attendant  on  her  least  wants  ; 
she  possessed  her  coupe,  drawn  by  a  large,  silver- 
trapped  horse ;  she  possessed,  also,  a  glossy,  dark- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  283 

appointed  carriage,  drawn  by  two  horses  of  equally 
smart  gear,  and  supervised  by  coachman  and  foot 
man  in  approved  and  modish  livery. 

Mrs.  Digits  was  in  ecstasies  at  the  prosperous 
change.  "  Now  you  're  indeed  lancee,  don't  you 
know?"  she  said.  "  By  the  way,  has  Cornelia  Van 
Horn  left  a  card  on  you,  my  dear?" 

"No,"  said  Claire. 

"Can  she  really  mean  open  warfare?" 

"Let  her  wage  it,"  Claire  answered.  "That  is 
better  th  in  to  have  it  concealed." 

The  opera-season  began  the  next  evening.  Hollis- 
terhad  engaged  a  box,  permanently.  It  was  a  season 
that  opened  with  much  auspicious  brilliancy.  Claire 
appeared  in  her  first  really  notable  toilette.  One  of 
the  reigning  modistes  had  made  it,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  was  called  upon  to  stand  the  test 
of  surpassingly  beautiful  dressing.  It  is  a  test  that 
some  very  fair  women  stand  ill.  They  show  to  best 
advantage  in  garments  which  have  no  atmosphere  of 
festival ;  it  becomes  them  to  be  clad  with  domesticity 
or  at  least  moderation.  This  was  by  no  means  true, 
however,  of  Claire.  The  diamond  necklace  which 
Hollister  had  spread  on  her  dressing-table  but  a  few 
minutes  before  the  hour  of  departure  glittered  round 
her  smooth,  slender  neck  with  telling  saliency.  Her 
gown  was  of  a  pale,  pink  brocaded  stuff,  and  she 
carried  its  full-flowing  train  with  a  light-stepping  and 
perfect  repose.  Before  she  had  unclasped  her  cloak 
and  seated  herself  in  the  box  at  Ilollister's  side, 
numerous  lorgnettes  were  leveled  upon  the  lovely, 
dignified  picture  that  she  made.  When  she  had 
seated  herself,  the  spell  continued.  The  large  pink 
roses  in  her  bosom,  were  not  deep  or  sweet  enough  of 


284  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

tint  to  do  moro  than  heighten  the  fresh,  chaste  flush 
in  either  cheek.  She  bore  herself  with  a  fine  and 
delicate  majesty.  Her  dark-bluo  eyes  told  of  the 
quicker  pulse  that  stirred  her  veins  only  by  a  more 
humid  and  dreamy  sparkle.  She  was  inwardly  glad 
to  be  where  she  sat,  and  to  be  robed  as  she  was  robed, 
but  her  pleasure  softly  exulted  in  its  own  outward 
repression  ;  she  was  wonderfully  self-poised  and  tran 
quil,  considering  her  strong  secret  excitement.  Nearly 
everybody  who  looked  upon  her  pronounced  her  to  be 
very  beautiful,  and  a  good  many  people,  before  an 
hour  had  passed,  had  looked  at  her  with  the  closest 
kind  of  scrutiny. 

The  opera  was  a  favorite  one  ;  a  famed  and  favor 
ite  prima-donna  sang  in  it.  Below,  where  the  real 
lovers  of  music  mostly  thronged,  Claire's  presence 
produced  neither  comment  nor  criticism.  But  up  in 
the  region  sacred  to  fashion,  inattention,  gossip,  and 
flirtation,  she  rapidly  became  an  event  which  even 
the  most  melodious  cavatina  was  powerless  to  super 
sede. 

It  was  not  all  done  by  her  beauty  and  novel  charm. 
Hollister,  sitting  at  her  side,  nonchalant,  handsome, 
of  excellent  conventional  style  in  garb  and  posture, 
materially  helped  to  increase  the  notability  which 
surrounded  her.  His  success  had  publicly  transpired; 
a  few  of  those  newspapers  which  are  little  save  glar 
ing  personal  placards  had  of  late  proclaimed  with 
graphic  zeal  his  speculative  triumphs.  He  had  leapt 
into  notoriety  in  a  day,  almost  in  an  hour.  There 
was  but  one  man  in  the  house  besides  her  husband 
whom  Claire  knew.  This  man  was  Stuart  Gold  win, 
and  ho  soon  dropped  into  her  box,  remaining  there 
through  the  twro  final  acts.  Hollister,  meanwhile, 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  285 

chose  to  be  absent.  He  bad  found  some  friends  wbo 
were  solicitous  of  presenting  him  to  certain  ladies. 
He  spent  nearly  the  whole  of  these  two  acts  in 
chatting  with  these  same  ladies.  They  were  all 
gracious ;  one  or  two  of  them  had  strong  claims  to 
beauty.  It  was  no  less  an  important  evening  with 
himself  than  with  Claire.  Perhaps  with  him  it  was 
even  more  so,  since  he  obtained  his  social  acceptance, 
as  it  were,  by  great  dames  whom  he  pleased  with  his 
handsome  face,  happy  manners,  and  growing  repute 
as  a  potential  millionaire. 

His  wife,  on  the  other  hand,  had  gained  a  differ 
ent  victory.  She  was  pronounced  to  be  charming 
and  remarkable  ;  she  had  acquired  the  prestige  of 
Goldwin's  open  attentions.  But  she  was  a  woman, 
and  she  had  not  yet  received  the  endorsement  of  her 
own  sex.  It  might  possibly  soon  arrive,  or  it  might 
be  withheld  :  there  was  still  no  actual  certainty. 

Claire  loved  the  music,  but  she  would  have  heard 
its  cadences  in  discontent  if  fate  had  decreed  that  she 
should  sit,  this  evening,  with  no  attendant  devotee. 
She  knew  well  that  Goldwin's  company  distinguished 
her.  Mrs.  Diggs  had  given  her  points,  as  the  phrase 
goes.  She  was  quite  aware  that  the  horse-shoe  of 
boxes  in  our  metropolitan  opera-house,  and  the  other 
more  commodious  proscenium  boxes  which  flank  its 
stage,  are  at  nearly  all  times  occupied  by  just  the 
kind  of  people  among  whom  she  wished  to  win  her 
coveted  lofty  place.  She  understood  that  they  would 
note,  comment,  gauge,  admire,  or  condemn  ;  and 
while  her  manner  bespoke  a  sweet  and  placid  uncon 
sciousness  of  their  observation,  she  was  alive  to  the 
exact  amount  of  observation  which  she,  attracted. 

"  I  am  so  glad  that  you  came,"  Goldwin  told  her. 


286  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  For  very  selfish  reasons,  I  mean.  You  appear,  and 
you  corroborate  my  statements.  Now  people  can  at 
last  see  and  judge  for  themselves.  The  verdict  is 
sure." 

He  said  many  more  things  in  this  vein,  all  uttered 
low,  and  all  accompanied  by  his  smile,  that  seemed 
either  to  mean  volumes  or  to  leave  his  true  meaning 
adroitly  ambiguous. 

Mrs.  Ridgeway  Lee  was  in  a  somewhat  near  box. 
When  Gold  win  returned  to  her  side,  just  as  the  cur 
tain  was  falling  on  the  hist  act,  she  accepted  his  es 
cort  to  her  carriage  with  a  fine  composure.  He  met 
Mrs.  Van  Horn,  a  little  later,  in  the  crush  that  al 
ways  occurs  along  the  Fourteenth  Street  lobby  of  our 
Academy  when  a  full  house  disgorges  its  throng. 

The  two  ladies  talked  together.  Not  far  away 
from  them  stood  Mrs.  Diggs  and  Claire,  each  waiting 
for  an  absent  husband  to  secure  her  carriage. 

"  What  a  contrast  there  is  between  them,"  Claire 
murmured  to  her  companion.  "  One  is  so  blonde  and 
peaceful,  the  other  so  dark  and  restless." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Claire.  Have  you  caught  Cor 
nelia's  eye  ?" 

"  No.     She  does  not  appear  to  see  me." 

"  She  sees  you  perfectly.  She  has  not  yet  made 
up  her  mind  just  how  to  act." 

"  I  think  that  she  means  to  cut  me,"  said  Claire, 
under  her  breath. 

"  Never,"  came  the  emphatic  answer,  so  bass  and 
gruff  because  of  its  voc;il  suppression,  that  it  pro 
duced  odd  contrast  with  Mrs.  Diggs's  bodily  thinness. 
"•  To  cut  you  would  be  to  burn  her  ships.  She  lias  an 
object  in  knowing  YOU.  I  'm  afraid  it's  a  dark  one. 
But  be  sure  that  she  is  only  making  up  her  uiind 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  287 

just  how  to  know  you.  She  will  soon  decide  ;  she 
has  already  delayed  too  long,  and  she  feels  it.  Be 
ready  for  a  prompt  change." 

If  the  behavior  of  Mrs.  Van  Horn  was  really  to  be 
explained  on  the  theory  of  her  prophetic  cousin,  then 
she  made  up  her  mind  very  soon  after  the  delivery 
of  these  oracular  sentences.  A  chance  turn  of  the 
neck  seemed  to  render  her  conscious  of  Claire's  neigh 
boring  presence.  She  bowed  with  soft  decision  the 
instant  that  their  eyes  met ;  and  Claire  returned  the 
bow. 

The  next  instant  she  laid  one  gloved  hand  on  the 
arm  of  Mrs.  Ridgeway  Lee,  and  then  both  ladies 
moved  in  Claire's  direction.  Their  progress  was  of 
necessity  made  between  the  forms  of  several  assem 
bled  ladies,  who  nodded  and  smiled  as  the  great  per 
sonage  and  her  companion  pushed  courteously  past 
them.  They  were  mostly  the  loyal  adherents  of  Mrs. 
Van  Horn,  in  the  sense  that  they  held  it  high  honor 
to  have  the  right  of  occasionally  darkening  her  Wash 
ington  Square  doorway.  Two  or  three  of  them  were 
perhaps  co  -  regents  with  her  as  regarded  caste  and 
power. 

They  all  saw  and  intently  watched  the  little  aston 
ishing  action  that  now  followed.  Mrs.  Van  Horn 
glided  up  to  Claire  and  extended  her  hand. 

"  I  was  so  very  sorry  to  have  missed  your  dinner, 
Mrs.  Hollister,"  said  the  great  lady,  with  her  best 
affability,  "  but  another  engagement  forced  me  to 
be  absent."  She  again  put  her  hand  on  the  arm  of 
Mrs.  Ridgeway  Lee ;  she  had  thus  far  wholly  ignored 
Mrs.  Diggs ;  her  nose  was  well  in  the  air,  as  usual, 
but  her  smile  was  bland,  conciliatory,  impressive ; 
she  glowed  with,  an  august  amiability. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  T  want  yon  to  let  me  present  my  cousin,  Mrs. 
Lee,"  she  proceeded.  "  We  have  both  heard  so 
much  about  you,  of  late,  from  Mr.  Goldwin.  You 
can't  think  how  devoted  a  friend  you  have  suddenly 
made." 

Before  Claire  could  answer,  Mrs.  Lee  spoke.  She 
had  got  herself  into  her  usual  extraordinary  twist. 
Her  visage,  her  hands,  and  her  lower  limbs,  regarded 
according  to  their  relative  disposeinents,  would  have 
made  a  very  sinuous  line.  Like  Mrs.  Van  Horn,  she 
was  wrapped  in  an  opera  cloak.  But  her  dark  little 
head  rose  from  the  large  circlet  of  swansdown  about 
her  slight  throat  with  an  effect  not  unlike  the  slim 
crest  of  a  turtle  stealing  from  its  shell.  She  con 
stantly  suggested  a  creature  of  this  lean  and  chill 
type,  though  rarely  with  any  of  its  repulsive  traits. 

"  Indeed,  yes !  "  she  softly  exclaimed  to  Claire. 
"  Mr.  Goldwin  is  a  great  friend  of  mine,  and  he  has 
told  me  hundreds  of  charming  things  about  you." 

"  Our  acquaintance  has  been  a  very  short  one," 
said  Claire,  looking  at  Mrs.  Diggs.  In  a  certain 
way,  she  sought  to  gain  a  kind  of  tacit  cue  from  the 
latter's  face.  She  failed  to  perceive  just  how  matters 
were  drifting.  Was  this  patronage  on  the  part  of 
both  ladies  ?  Or  was  it  meant  for  irreproachable 
courtesy  ? 

Mrs.  Diggs  gave  a  laugh.  "  Goldwin  can  say  a 
hundred  charming  things  very  easily  on  a  brief  ac 
quaintance,"  she  declared.  "Can't  you?"  were  her 
next  words,  delivered  to  Goldwin  himself,  who  had 
just  then  slipped  up  to  the  group. 

"  Oh,  no,  I  can't,"  he  at  once  replied,  "  unless  I 
mean  every  one  of  them." 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  Mrs.  Diggs,  "  how  quickly  you 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  289 

grasp  the  situation  !  So  you  heard  what  we  were 
talking  about,  did  you  ?  You  've  found  out  that  we 
were  discussing  your  last  enthusiasm  ?  " 

"Ah,"  said  Goldwiu,  "I  have  very  few  of  them. 
Don't  cheapen  me,  please,  in  the  regard  of  Mrs.  Hoi- 
lister." 

"  You  seem  to  count  upon  her  regard  with  singular 
confidence,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Horn. 

"  That 's  entirely  our  affair,"  laughed  Goldwiu. 
He  looked  at  Claire,  but  while  he  did  so  Mrs.  Van 
Horn  placed  her  hand  within  his  arm.  She  took  it 
for  granted  that  her  carriage  had  been  properly  sum 
moned  by  the  financier,  and  she  was  going  to  permit 
him  to  accompany  her  thither,  as  she  had  permitted 
him  to  find  it ;  she  nearly  always  put  herself  in  the 
attitude  of  permitting  favors  and  not  soliciting  them, 
by  some  deft,  secure  art,  quite  her  own.  The  bow 
of  farewell  which  she  gave  Claire  was  handsomely 
suave.  Mrs.  Lee  moved  away  at  her  other  side. 
Mrs.  Lee  had  been  her  guest,  that  evening,  and  they 
were  to  ride  home  together. 

"  So,  Claire,  it  's  settled,"  presently  said  Mrs. 
Diggs.  "  Cornelia  is  to  know  you.  So  is  Sylvia 
Lee.  Be  careful  of  them  both.  I  can't  feel  certain, 
yet,  of  exactly  what  it  all  means.  .  .  .  Here  's  that 
dear  Manhattan  of  mine.  He  has  got  our  carriage. 
Shall  I  remain  with  you  till  your  husband  reap 
pears?  .  .  .  Very  well;  I  will.  But  this  is  no  place 
in  which  to  talk  over  the  whole  odd,  interesting 
thing.  I  '11  try  and  drop  in  upon  you  soon  ;  possi 
bly  to-morrow,  if  I  can  manage  it.  ...  Does  Man 
hattan  see  us  ?  Just  observe  how  stupidly  he  stares 
everywhere  but  here.  He  's  been  a  little  strange  and 
absent-minded  all  the  evening.  I  really  think  he  's 

19 


290  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

forgotten  where  he  left  me.  He  smokes  too  many  of 
those  strong,  horrid  cigars,  don't  you  know  ?  I  truly 
believe  that  they  cloud  his  brain  half  the  time  .  .  . 
but  then  it 's  better  he  should  smoke  too  much  than 
drink  too  much.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  if 
the  dear  fellow  drank  too  much  !  "  .  .  . 

Mrs.  Diggs  did  present  herself  at  Claire's  house 
on  the  following  day.  But  Claire  was  not  at  home. 
She  had  driven  out  in  company  with  her  husband. 

It  was  a  momentous  drive.  They  had  left  home 
together  at  about  one  o'clock.  Claire  had  no  idea 
whither  they  were  going,  at  first.  Hollister  had 
chosen  to  assume  an  air  of  profound  mysticism.  "  I 
have  a  great  surprise  for  you,"  he  said. 

There  was  no  characteristic  twinkle  in  his  eye  as 
he  made  this  statement.  Claire  felt  that  he  was  far 
from  saddened,  and  yet  his  gravity  looked  an  un 
doubted  fact. 

"  I  will  accompany  you  blindly,"  she  said,  just 
before  they  entered  the  carriage.  "  I  suppose,  how 
ever,  there  are  some  more  jewels  at  Tiffany's  which 
you  want  me  to  see  and  choose  from." 

"  No,"  said  Hollister,  shaking  his  head.  "  I 
should  n't  spend  nearly  a  whole  day  away  from  Wall 
Street  for  anything  of  that  sort." 

The  carriage  had  soon  passed  Tiffany's  by  a  con 
siderable  distance,  in  what  we  call  the  downward  di 
rection.  As  its  progress  increased,  Claire's  curiosify 
heightened,  but  for  some  time  she  gave  no  proof  of 
this.  Her  talk  was  of  their  new  attainments,  of 
their  growing  pastimes,  pleasures,  and  luxuries.  She 
spoke  often  with  a  slightly  unfamiliar  speed  ;  it  was 
a  little  habit  that  of  late  had  come  upon  her  ;  it  be 
trayed  gentle  excitement  in  place  of  previous  compos- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  291 

ure.  To  Hollister,  when  he  observed  it  at  all,  the 
effect  was  filled  with  charm  ;  he  no  more  disliked  it 
than  he  would  have  disliked  to  see  a  very  tender 
breeze  lightly  agitate  some  beautiful  bloom.  Hut 
now  his  gravity  by  no  means  lessened  under  the  sj>  11 
of  Claire's  rather  voluble  advances.  She  had  plainly 
seen  the  change;  on  a  sudden  she  herself  became  se 
rious  as  he  ;  then,  after  an  interval  of  almost  complete 
silence,  she  placed  her  hand  in  his.  The  carriage 
was  now  very  near  to  one  of  the  Brooklyn  ferries. 
No  doubt  the  first  real  suspicion  of  the  truth  had 
flashed  through  Claire's  mind  when  she  abruptly 
said  :  — 

"  Where  are  we  going,  Herbert?  You  really  must 
tell  me." 

He  met  her  intent  look  ;  she  had  rarely  seen  his 
blithe  eyes  more  solemn  than  now. 

"  Haven't  you  guessed  by  this  time?  "  he  said. 

"  Perhaps  I  have,"  she  answered.  Her  tone  was  a 
low  murmur  ;  she  had  averted  her  eyes  from  his,  and 
would  have  withdrawn  from  him  her  hand,  had  not 
the  clasp  of  his  own  softly  rebelled  against  this  act. 
Her  cheeks  had  flushed  almost  crimson.  "  Go  on," 
she  persisted.  "  Tell  me  if  I  am  right." 

"  I  think  you  are,  Claire  ;  I  think  you  have  guessed 
it,  at  last."  The  carriage  had  just  entered  the  big 
gateway  of  the  ferry ;  wheels  and  hoofs  took  a  new 
sound  as  they  struck  the  planks  of  the  wharf.  "Don't 
you  remember  that  night  at  the  Island,  a  little  while 
after  our  engagement,  when  you  told  me  that  it 
would  give  you  such  joy  to  regain  your  father's  body 
and  to  have  it  decently  buried,  in  a  Christian  way  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Herbert  ...  I  remember."  She  spoke  the 
words  so  faintly  that  he  scarcely  heard  them. 


292  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

"  Well,  Claire,  I  made  you  a  promise,  then,  and  I 
recollected  the  promise." 

"  But  /forgot  it !  "  she  cried,  throwing  both  arms 
about  his  neck,  for  an  instant,  and  kissing  his  cheek. 
Immediately  afterward  she  burst  into  tears.  "  Oh, 
Herbert,  you  remembered  and  I  forgot !  How  wicked 
of  me  !  I  let  other  things  —  things  that  were  trilles 
and  vanities  —  drive  it  from  my  mind  !  Poor,  dear, 
dead  Father !  He  would  never  have  done  that  to 
me  !  He  loved  me  too  well  —  far  too  well ! : 

The  tears  were  rushing  down  her  face,  and  her  frame 
was  in  a  miserable  tremor.  Already  he  had  caught 
both  her  hands,  and  was  firmly  pressing  them  while 
he  bent  toward  her,  and  while  she  leaned  in  a  relaxed 
posture  against  the  back  of  the  carriage.  He  thought 
her  repentance  as  exquisite  as  it  was  needless  ;  he 
held  it  as  only  a  fresh  proof  of  her  sweet,  refined 
spirit.  It  brought  the  mist  into  his  sight,  and  made 
his  voice  throb  very  unwoutedly,  to  see  her  weep  and 
tremble  thus. 

"  My  darling,"  his  next  words  hurried,  "  you  're 
not  in  the  least  to  blame.  You  would  have  thought 
about  it  a  little  later,  I  'm  certain.  But  so  much  has 
happened  since  our  marriage,  you  know.  Besides, 
what  you  call  trifles  and  vanities  are  just  what  he 
wanted  you  to  think  about.  He  must  be  glad  (if 
the  dead  are  ever  glad  or  sorry  in  any  way)  to  see 
you  climb  higher,  and  get  the  notice  and  influence 
you  deserve.  You  never  slighted  his  memory  at  all. 
Don't  fancy  you  did,  Claire.  He  was  in  your  mind 
all  the  while,  only  you  postponed  speaking  of  him  a 
little  longer  than  you  intended.  You  had  told  me 
what  to  do,  don't  you  see,  and  you  felt  a  certain 
security  as  regarded  my  doing  it.  That  was  allt 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  293 

Now  do  cheer  up.  We  've  quite  a  ride  to  Greenwood 
after  we  leave  the  ferry.  Everything  has  been  done, 
quietly,  dear,  without  your  knowing.  I  thought  it 
would  pain  you  too  much  to  stand  beside  any  open 
grave  of  his.  The  body  was  not  hard  to  find.  You 
recollected  its  ...  its  number,  you  know.  I  'm 
sure  you  will  like  the  stone  I  've  had  put  over  him. 
It  is  just  a  plain  granite  one,  with  the  name,  and 
date  of  death.  The  date  of  birth  shall  be  put  there 
afterward ;  I  did  n't  want  to  ask  it  of  you  yet ;  that 
would  have  spoiled  my  surprise." 

She  grew  perfectly  calm  again,  some  time  before 
they  reached  the  cemetery.  The  cessation  of  her 
tears  deeply  relieved  Hollister.  He  had  never  seen 
her  weep  before,  and  the  betrayal  of  such  emotion, 
feminine  though  it  was,  had  harshly  disturbed  him. 
Once  more  composed,  she  returned  to  him  in  her 
proper  strength.  She  became  Claire  again.  It  was 
not  that  be  did  not  like  her  to  show  weakness,  but 
rather  that  in  showing  weakness  she  appeared  new 
and  odd  to  him,  and  hence  not  just  his  own  strong, 
serene,  familiar  Claire.  Any  jar,  as  it  were,  in  the 
steadfast  vibrations  of  his  fealty  sent  to  the  heart 
of  this  most  unswerving  loyalist  a  strange,  'acute 
dismay. 

The  autumn  darkness  had  almost  fallen  upon  the 
multitudinous  tombs  of  Greenwood  before  Claire  was 
willing  to  leave  that  of  her  father.  His  name,  cut  in 
the  modest  gray  of  the  stone,  seemed  for  hours  after 
ward  cut  into  her  conscience  as  well.  The  grand  re 
pose  of  the  place,  too,  left  its  haunting  thrill  in  her 
soul.  A  great  sombre  note  had  been  struck  through 
all  her  being,  at  a  time  when  brain  and  nerves  had 
begun  to  feel  the  full  intoxication  of  worldly  longing. 


294  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

While  she  was  living  intensely,  death  had  come  to 
her  in  the  shape  of  keen,  reproachful  reminder.  The 
vast  cemetery  had  now  no  vernal  or  summer  charm. 
Above,  the  sky  was  soft  as  a  clouded  turquoise,  but 
underfoot,  and  on  tree  and  shrub,  the  lovely  melan 
choly  of  waning  autumn  met  the  bitter  melancholy 
of  a  far  more  woful  decay.  It  was  all  like  one  mighty 
threnody  put  to  mighty  yet  very  tender  music.  With 
a  certain  sinister  and  piercing  eloquence,  moreover, 
this  huge,  mute  city  of  death  addressed  Claire.  Many 
noted  family  names  hud  of  late  passed  into  her  mem 
ory,  as  those  of  people  whom  it  would  be  safe,  wise, 
politic  to  know  ;  and  not  a  few  of  these  she  now  saw, 
lettered  on  slabs  or  shafts,  and  graven  over  the  por 
tals  of  vaults.  Each  one,  as  her  gaze  read  it,  wore  a 
frightful  sarcasm.  More  than  once  she  closed  her 
eyes  and  shuddered,  as  the  carriage  made  both  exit 
and  entrance  here  in  this  sad  domain.  The  perfect 
culture  of  the  place  rendered  its  doleful  pathos  even 
more  poignant.  The  dead  were  not  neglected,  here ; 
others,  now  alive  and  of  the  bright  world  she  had 
yearned  to  triumph  in,  must  soon  lie  down  beside 
them.  The  narrow  beds  were  kept  well  tended,  per 
haps,  for  just  this  dreary  and  hideous  reason. 

That  night  she  spent  almost  without  sleep.  She 
heard  her  mother's  vindictive  voice  ring  through  the 
stillness ;  she  had  waking  visions  of  her  father's 
face,  clad  with  an  angelic  rebuke ;  she  seemed  to  lis 
ten  once  more  while  Beverley  Thurston  spoke  those 
words  of  remonstrance  and  chiding  which  were  the 
last  he  had  uttered  in  her  presence :  "  I  warn  you 
against  yourself  .  .  .  there  is  an  actual  curse  hang 
ing  over  you  ...  it  will  surely  fall,  unless  by  the 
act  of  your  own  will  you  change  it  into  a  blessing." 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  295 

Yes,  her  aim  had  been  false  and  worthless.  She 
knew  it  well,  at  last.  Her  father's  grave  had  told 
her  so.  She  was  born  for  better  things  than  to  fling 
down  a  dainty  gauntlet  of  social  warfare  at  Mrs. 
Van  Horn.  The  big  world  had  big  work  for  such  a 
woman  as  herself  to  front  and  do.  She  realized  it 
now ;  she  had  realized  it  all  along.  Herbert  thought 
she  had  been  right  merely  because  he  loved  her.  To 
morrow  she  would  make  Herbert  see  clearly  the  folly 
of  his  own  acquiescence.  Now  that  the  money  had 
come,  there  were  great  charities  possible.  She  would 
go  back,  too,  among  her  books  ;  these  should  teach 
her  more  than  they  had  ever  yet  taught.  It  was  true 
enough  that  in  one  way  she  was  cold  ;  she  could  not 
feel  passion  like  other  women.  The  infatuation  of  a 
Mrs.  Ridgeway  Lee  was  an  enigma  to  her.  But  she 
could  love  a  loftier  ideal  of  life  —  love  it  and  try  to 
climb  thither  by  the  steeper  and  harsher  path.  This, 
surely,  was  what  her  father  had  meant,  long  ago. 

Such  were  her  new  reflections  and  her  new  resolves. 
It  took  just  one  day,  and  no  more,  to  dissipate  them 
completely.  Mrs.  Diggs  sent  her  a  note  on  the  fol 
lowing  afternoon,  saying  that  a  hundred  little  ob 
structive  matters  had  prevented  her  purposed  visit 
that  morning,  but  begging  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
her  own  and  her  husband's  company  at  dinner  on 
the  same  evening.  Would  not  Claire  drop  in  very 
early  —  say  about  four  o'clock  ?  "  It  is  my  visiting 
day,"  wrote  her  correspondent.  "  Perhaps  there  will 
be  four  or  five  feminine  callers,  perhaps  none.  If 
there  are  none,  we  can  have  a  good  three  hours'  chat, 
don't  you  know?  I  've  some  new  things  from  Paris 
that  I  want  to  show  you.  It  strikes  me  that  Worth's 
taste  grows  more  depraved  every  year,  and  J  want 


296  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

you  to  give  me  your  advice  as  to  whether  I  shall 
throw  all  these  hideous  importations  over  to  my 
maid  or  no.  You  can  leave  a  little  note  at  home  for 
that  delightful  husband  of  yours,  telling  him  that 
the  Diggses  dine  at  seven.  Or  you  can  show  him 
this  note,  unless  you  have  jealous  feelings  with  regard 
to  my  florid  adjective." 

Claire  quitted  the  house  at  about  four  that  after 
noon,  leaving  behind  her  a  few  lines  for  Hollister. 
She  chose  to  go  on  foot,  the  day  being  fair  and  pleas 
ant.  But  she  had  scarcely  got  twenty  yards  away 
from  her  own  stoop,  when  a  carriage  rattled  past  her, 
stopping  suddenly.  It  was  an  equipage  of  great  ele 
gance.  Claire  soon  perceived  that  it  had  stopped  be 
fore  the  door  from  which  she  had  just  made  exit.  A 
footman  sprang  from  the  box,  and  immediately  after 
ward  what  appeared  to  be  more  than  a  single  card 
was  handed  him  by  an  unseen  occupant  of  the  car 
riage.  He  then  ascended  the  stoop  of  the  Hollister 
abode,  and  sharply  rang  its  bell.  When  his  sum 
mons  was  answered  the  man  held  brief  converse  with 
Claire's  new  butler,  and  then  presented,  with  a  little 
bow,  the  card  or  cards  intrusted  to  him.  In  a  trice 
he  was  down  the  stoop  again,  and  again  at  the  car 
riage  door.  He  did  not  seem  to  deliver  any  spoken 
message,  but  merely  touched  with  one  raised  finger 
the  rim  of  his  cockaded  hat.  The  carriage  then 
started  briskly  off,  without  its  high  -  throned  driver 
paying  the  slightest  heed  to  the  fact  that  his  liver 
ied  associate  must  scramble  up  to  his  side  while  the 
vehicle  was  in  full  motion.  But  this  feat  was  ac 
complished  with  great  ease  ;  a  mannerism  of  fashion 
demanded  that  the  footman  should  so  perform  it ;  the 
approved  effect  of  complete  unconcern  on  the  one 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  297 

hand  and  up-leaping  agility  on  the  other  was  never 
produced  with  more  complete  success. 

Claire  had  soon  reentered  the  house.  She  found 
two  cards  there,  awaiting  her  inspection.  One  bore 
the  name  of  Mrs.  Van  Horn,  and  one  that  of  Mrs. 
Ridgeway  Lee. 

"  Delightful !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Diggs,  on  learning 
this  occurrence  from  Claire  herself,  about  a  half  hour 
later.  "  That  visit,  from  those  two  women,  has  an 
enormous  meaning.  How  sorry  I  am  you  were  not 
at  home.  It  would  have  been  two  against  one,  but 
I  'm  inclined  to  pay  you  the  very  marked  compliment 
of  saying  that  both  your  antagonists,  deep  and  clever 
as  they  are,  would  have  been  no  match  for  you. 
Well,  hostilities  are  postponed.  It 's  an  armistice, 
not  a  truce.  I  insist,  you  see,  on  using  the  terms  of 
warfare.  How  the  battle  will  be  fought  is  still  a 
mystery,  of  course  ;  but  two  potent  truths  simply 
cant  be  overlooked.  You  refused  Cornelia  Van 
Horn's  brother.  That  is  one  of  them." 

"  And  the  second  ?  "  asked  Claire,  a  little  absently, 
because  she  felt  what  answer  would  come. 

"  The  second  ?  You  've  roused  pointed  admiration 
in  the  man  whom  Sylvia  Lee  worships." 

Claire  looked  at  the  speaker,  and  slowly  shook  her 
head.  There  was  doubt,  trouble,  irresolution  in  her 
face  ;  and  now,  when  she  spoke,  her  voice  had  a 
weary,  almost  plaintive  note. 

"I  —  I  feel  like  not  engaging  in  the  fight,  if  you 
really  think  there  is  to  be  one,"  she  said,  hesitantly. 
"I  don't  mean  because  I  am  afraid,"  were  her  next 
words,  delivered  with  much  greater  swiftness.  "  Oh, 
no,  not  that.  There  are  other  reasons.  I  can't  ex 
plain,  just  now."  Here  she  paused,  and  her  face 


298  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

softly  brightened,  while  she  gave  a  little  shrug  of  the 
shoulders.  "  Well,"  she  abruptly  went  on,  "  perhaps 
I  shall  never  explain." 

She  never  did  explain.  This  was  her  last  feeble 
protest  against  the  slow,  sure  force  of  that  subtle 
fascination  which  was  once  more  steadily  reclaiming 
her.  The  gloomy  remorse  and  the  vital  energy  of 
yesterday's  mood  had,  neither  of  them,  quite  left  her. 
But  they  both  soon  withdrew  their  last  remnant  of 
sway. 

Hollister  came  a  little  late  to  Mrs.  Diggs's  dinner. 
It  had  been  a  great  day  with  him.  He  had  risked  a 
very  important  sum  by  retaining  a  large  number  of 
shares  in  a  certain  precarious  stock.  He  had  his 
reasons  for  doing  so,  and  they  were  clever  reasons, 
judged  by  the  general  conditions  of  the  market.  lie 
had  made  a  memorable  stroke,  and  all  Wall  Street 
knew  of  it  before  the  usual  hour  for  brokers  to  seek 
other  than  their  daily  haunts  of  hazard.  He  was 
radiant,  if  this  could  be  said  of  one  whose  spirits 
were  always  bright,  as  his  temper  was  sweet.  There 
were  only  four  at  dinner.  Mr.  Diggs  overflowed  with 
congratulations  to  Hollister.  He  was  quite  as  tipsy 
as  usual,  and  to  Claire's  thinking,  quite  as  tiresome. 

But  the  dinner  was  not  tiresome.  Mrs.  Diggs  was 
at  her  loquacious  best.  The  recent  brilliant  manoeu 
vre  of  her  husband  had  roused  in  Claire  all  the  old 
exultant  feeling.  Yesterday  was  now  indeed  yester 
day.  She  was  already  plunging  an  eager  look  straight 
onward  through  a  long  rosy  vista  of  to-morrows. 

"  I  'm  so  glad,  Herbert !  "  she  said,  as  they  were 
being  driven  home  together.  "  Perhaps  I  did  n'fc 
show  that  I  was,  there  at  dinner.  That  dreadful  Mr. 
Diggs  is  made  of  such  explosive  material  that  I  was 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  299 

afraid  he  would  want  to  drink  your  health  standing, 
or  something  of  that  absurd  sort,  if  I  ventured  to  tell 
you  how  glad  I  really  was  that  you  've  made  another 
hit,  luckier  than  any  you  ever  made  before." 

Hollister  put  his  lips  to  her  cheek.  "  I  know  just 
how  glad  you  are,"  he  said,  while  kissing  her.  "  You 
need  n't  tell  me  another  word  about  it." 

Claire  had  spoken  with  that  little  half-excited  trip 
of  the  tongue,  which  has  been  recorded  as  a  late 
change  in  her  demeanor. 

She  was  silent,  not  having  returned  her  husband's 
caress.  This  was  quite  like  the  accustomed  Claire. 
Yesterday,  in  the  carriage  which  had  borne  them  to 
Greenwood,  she  had  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck 
and  kissed  him,  as  any  ordinary  wife  might  do. 

Hollister  was  quietly  re-accepting  her,  so  to  speak, 
as  the  extraordinary  wife  —  or,  in  other  terser  phrase, 
as  Claire. 

He  went  on  speaking  before  she  had  a  chance  to 
answer  him.  He  was  still  holding  her  hand  while 
he  spoke.  "  Oh,  by  the  way,  Claire,  Goldwin  had  a 
good  deal  to  do  with  my  luck.  He  gave  me  points, 
as  they  say  down  there.  But  don't  breathe  it  to  a 
living  soul.  Goldwin  's  an  awfully  good  friend  of 
mine,  I  find,  though  we  have  n't  always  pulled  to- 
getherjn  a  business  way." 

"  Yes  ?  "  Claire  answered. 

She  had  somehow  got  her  hand  away  from  his. 
She  was  using  it  to  arrange  her  wrap  about  the 
throat. 


XVII. 

THE  gay  season  bad  soon  set  in  with  full  force. 
It  promised  to  be  a  season  of  especial  brilliancy. 
Claire  rapidly  found  people  gathering  about  her. 
She  began  to  have  a  little  list  of  her  own.  The  wives 
of  the  two  gentlemen  who  had  dined  with  herself  and 
husband  in  Goldwin's  company,  each  asked  herself 
and  husband  to  dine  at  their  own  house.  The  din 
ners  were  both  of  sumptuous  quality,  and  attended 
by  numerous  other  guests.  Claire  made  a  deep  im 
pression  at  both  places.  Her  toilettes  were  rich  and 
of  unique  taste  ;  she  was  by  far  the  most  beautiful 
woman  at  either  assemblage.  The  sudden  financial 
glory  of  Ilollister,  whose  actual  wealth  was  tripled  if 
not  quadrupled  by  rumor,  cast  about  her  exceptional 
grace,  beauty,  and  wit  an  added  halo  of  distinction. 
She  was  the  kind  of  woman  whom  women  like.  In 
not  a  few  of  her  own  sex  she  quickly  roused  an  en 
thusiastic  partisanship. 

"  You  are  bound  to  lead,  or  nothing,"  Mrs.  Diggs 
soon  said  to  her.  "  I  see  this  very  clearly,  Claire, — 
though,  for  that  matter,  I  have  seen  it  all  along." 

"  I  mean  to  lead,  or  nothing,"  answered  Claire, 
with  her  superb  candor.  *  "  Thus  far  I  have  not  found 
it  difficult." 

Mrs.  Diggs  put  up  her  thin  forefinger. 

"Tut,  tut,"   she   remonstrated.      "Don't  be   too 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  301 

confident.  Ambition  may  overleap  itself.  Remember 
that  you  are  still  on  the  threshold." 

"I've  crossed  it,"  said  Claire,  laughing.  "I've 
got  into  the  drawing-room." 

"  No,  you  have  n't,  my  dear.  You  have  yet 
achieved  nothing  secure,  absolute,  decisive.  Now, 
I  'm  not  a  bit  of  a  snob,  myself,  as  you  know.  But 
I  understand  how  to  reason  like  one ;  I  can  measure 
the  mettle  of  the  foe  you  've  got  to  fight  with.  Let 
us  talk  plainly  together,  as  we  always  do.  None  of 
the  very  heavy  swells  have  as  yet  admitted  you. 
There 's  no  use  of  denying  this.  You  're  being  a 
great  deal  talked  about.  You  've  broken  bread  al 
ready,  and  you  've  received  invitations  to  break  more 
bread,  with  some  very  nice,  exclusive  women.  But 
they  are  not  of  the  first  rank ;  they  're  not  of  the 
great,  proud,  select  clique.  True,  Cornelia  has  called 
on  you,  and  Sylvia  Lee  has  called.  You  've  returned 
their  visits,  and  have  seen  neither ;  neither  was  at 
home.  But  then  neither  is  at  home  except  on  her 
visiting-day,  and  that  is  customarily  written  with 
much  legibility  on  both  their  cards.  But  on  both  the 
cards  which  you  received,  no  day  at  all  ivas  written. 
I  've  never  mentioned  this  before,  have  I  ?  Well,  it 
never  occurred  to  me  until  last  night.  I  was  nervous, 
and  could  n't  sleep ;  that  dear  Manhattan  was  out  at 
the  club,  smoking  those  horrid  cigars,  which  flush  his 
face  so  and  hurt  his  poor,  dear  brain,  I  'm  sure.  Per 
haps  it  was  that  which  kept  me  awake  and  made  my 
mind  wander  toward  you,  and  reflect  upon  this  pe 
culiarly  interesting  stage  of  your  career.  The  little 
circumstance  I  have  mentioned  may  mean  nothing, 
but  I  'm  inclined  to  think  otherwise;  everything,  no 
matter  how  trivial,  about  Cornelia,  is  sure  to  mean. 


302  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

something.  But,  however  this  may  be,  affairs  have 
now  reached  a  peculiar  pass  with  you.  You  must 
make  a  coup,  my  dear  —  a  grand  coup" 

"  Which  you  have  arranged  entirely,"  said  Claire, 
smiling,  "I  haven't  a  doubt.  And  now  you  await 
my  sanction  of  it  ?  " 

Mrs.  Diggs  creased  her  pule  forehead,  in.  a  reflective 
frown.  "No,  not  precisely  that,  my  dear;  I  haven't 
yet  quite  decided  what  it  is  to  be.  But  I  have  al 
most  decided.  Suppose  that  you  do  not  make  it  at 
all  —  that  is,  not  in  your  own  person.  Suppose  that 
I  make  it  for  you." 

"  You  ?  "  inquired  Claire. 

"  Yes.  Suppose  that  I  send  out  cards  for  a  huge 
reception,  and  place  your  card  within  the  same  en 
velope.  Then  you  would  receive  at  my  side,  don't 
you  know,  and  everybody  who  came  must  henceforth 
be  on  your  list  as  well  as  on  mine.  I  would  launch 
you  boldly  forth,  in  other  words.  I  would  put  you 
under  my  wing.  I  would  give  you  my  cachet." 

A  marked  intimacy  now  existed  between  Claire 
and  Goldwin.  He  would  often  drop  in  of  an  even 
ing —  sometimes  of  an  afternoon.  Ilollister  was  not 
by  any  means  at  home  every  evening,  when  he  and 
Claire  had  no  mutual  engagement.  He  was  getting 
to  have  a  good  many  solitary  engagements.  "  Stag  " 
dinners  claimed  him  ;  there  would  be  nocturnal  trysts 
with  certain  fellow-financiers  on  the  subject  of  the 
morrow's  chances.  Then,  too,  he  had  been  made  a 
member  of  the  Metropolitan  Club,  an  institution 
oddly  hard,  and  in  a  way  oddly  easy,  to  enter ;  it  was 
the  one  great  reigning  club  of  the  continent ;  none 
other  precisely  resembled  it ;  the  social  leaders  who 
did  not  belong  to  it  were  few,  and  to  cross  its  door- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  303 

step  at  will  was  the  unfulfilled  dream  of  many  a 
social  struggler. 

Claire  cordially  liked  Goldwin.  If  be  had  been 
obscure  she  would  still  have  liked  him,  though  his 
importance  was  so  knit  in  with  his  personality,  he 
exhaled  such  an  atmosphere  of  pecuniary  and  pa 
trician  celebrity,  that  one  could  ill  think  of  him  as 
ever  being  or  ever  having  been  obscure.  She  was 
boldly  frank  with  him  regarding  her  ambitious  aims. 
He  would  throw  back  his  handsome  head  and  laugh 
most  heartily  at  her  ingenuous  confidences.  He 
would  tell  her  that  she  was  the  most  exquisite  joke 
in  the  world,  and  yet  that  he  was  somehow  forced  to 
accept  her  as  quite  the  opposite  of  one.  "  Ah,  yes, 
intensely  opposite,"  he  would  add,  with  a  fluttered 
pull  at  his  silken  mustache  that  she  felt  to  be  studied 
in  its  emotional  suggestiveness,  with  a  large  sigh  that 
she  suspected  of  being  less  studied,  and  with  a  look 
in  his  charming  hazel  eyes  that  would  nearly  always 
make  her  avert  her  own.  His  homage  had  become  a 
very  substantial  fact,  and  she  knew  just  how  much 
of  it  the  popular  standard  of  wifely  discretion  would 
permit  her  to  receive  —  just  how  much  of  it  would 
be  her  advantage  and  not  her  detriment.  He  was 

O 

too  keen  not  to  have  perceived  that  she  had  drawn 
this  judicious  line  of  calculation.  Now  and  then  he 
made  little  semi-jocose  attempts  to  overleap  it,  but 
at  the  worst  a  word  could  curb  him  where  a  glance 
failed.  She  found  him,  all  in  all,  saltatory  but  never 
vicious  ;  a  stout  pull  of  the  rein  always  brought  him 
to  terms. 

After  her  converse  with  Mrs.  Diggs,  just  recorded, 
she  told  him  of  the  latter's  proposed  coup.  He 
looked  at  her  sharply  for  a  moment,  and  then  made 
a  very  wry  grimace. 


304  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

"Good  Heavens!"  he  exclaimed.  "  That  woman 
endorse  you !  It  would  be  complete  ruin." 

"  Mrs.  Diggs  is  my  friend,  and  as  such  I  must  in 
sist  upon  your  always  speaking  with  respect  of  her  in 
my  presence,"  reprimanded  Claire,  stoutly. 

"  Respect  ?  Why,  of  course  I  respect  her.  Not 
physically ;  she  's  constructed  on  too  painful  a  plan 
of  zigzags.  But  in  all  other  ways  I  consider  her  de 
lightful.  She 's  got  a  big,  warm  heart  in  that  an 
gular  body  of  hers.  She  's  as  liberal  as  the  air.  But 
she  is  n't  good  form  —  she  is  n't  a  swell,  and  no 
earthly  power  could  make  her  so.  Of  course  she 
does  n't  think  she  has  really  lost  caste.  She  may  tell 
you  that  she  does,  but  privately  she  has  an  immense 
belief  in  her  ability  to  play  the  fine  lady  at  a  mo 
ment's  notice.  I  don't  know  any  woman  more  flatly 
disapproved  of  by  her  own  original  set.  Shall  I  tell 
you  what  this  idea  of  hers  would  result  in  if  prac 
tically  carried  out?  A  distinct  injury  to  yourself. 
She  has  a  crowd  of  queer  friends  whom  she  would  n't 
slight  for  the  world  ;  she  's  too  consistently  good- 
hearted.  She  'd  invite  them  all,  and  they  would  all 
come.  Her  notable  relations  —  the  Van  Horns  and 
Van  Corlears  and  Amsterdams  and  Hacken sacks, 
and  Heaven  knows  who  else  —  would  yawn  and  per 
haps  shudder  when  they  got  the  tickets  for  her  en 
tertainment.  They  would  mostly  come,  too,  and  all 
their  grand  friends  would  no  doubt  follow  them. 
But  they  would  come  with  a  feeling  of  deadly  ran 
cor  toward  yourself;  they  would  never  forgive  you 
for  setting  her  up  to  it,  and  nothing  could  induce 
them  to  believe  that  you  had  not  set  her  up  to  it." 
Here  Goldwin  crossed  his  legs  with  an  impatient 
violence,  and  stared  down  at  one  of  his  shoes  with 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  305 

enough  intensity  for  it  to  have  been  concerned  in  the 
last  caprice  of  the  stock-market.  "  Oh,  no,"  he  went 
on,  "  that  would  never  do.  Never  in  the  world.  It 
would  n't  be  a  coup  at  all;  it  would  be  a  monstrous 
fiasco.  Take  my  advice,  now,  and  politely  but  firmly 
nip  any  such  proceeding  in  the  bud." 

Claire  did.  On  his  own  side,  Goldwin  was  secretly 
determined  that  she  whom  he  thought  the  most  fasci 
nating,  novel,  and  beautiful  woman  he  ha'd  ever  met, 
should  achieve  the  full  extent  of  her  desires.  These 
desires  affected  him  much  as  they  affected  Hollister ; 
they  were  part  of  Claire's  charm  for  him  ;  they  were 
like  the  golden  craft  of  scrollwork  that  framed  the 
picture  ;  they  set  it  off,  and  made  it  more  precious ; 
there  was  a  lovely  imperiousness  about  them  that 
would  have  bored  him  in  another  woman,  like  a  kind 
of  ugly  greed,  but  that  in  her  were  a  delight. 

He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  serve  her,  brilliantly, 
conspicuously,  and  he  soon  did  so.  He  issued  invi 
tations  for  a  dinner  at  Delmonico's,  and  gave  it  on  a 
scale  of  splendor  that  eclipsed  all  his  previous  hospi 
talities.  Rare  music  stole  to  the  guests  while  they 
feasted ;  the  board  was  literally  pavilioned  in  flow 
ers  ;  the  wines  and  the  viands  were  marvels  of  rarity 
and  cost ;  beside  the  plate  of  each  lady  lay  a  fan 
studded  with  her  monogram  in  precious  stones ;  dur 
ing  dessert  a  little  cake  was  served  to  everybody 
present,  which,  when  broken,  contained  a  ring  with 
the  word  bienvenu  embossed  in  silver  along  its  golden 
circlet.  The  host  had  very  carefully  chosen  his  guests 
from  among  the  autocrats  and  arbiters  of  fashion. 
Claire  and  Hollister  were  the  only  persons  who  did 
not  represent  aristocracy  at  its  sovereign  height.  But 
on  Claire  fell  the  chief  honors.  It  was  she  whom 
20 


806  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

Goldwin  conducted  into  the  dining  room  ;  it  was  she 
to  whom  he  directed  the  major  share  of  his  atten 
tions,  contriving  with  slight  apparent  effort  that  she 
should  know  ever'y  one  else,  and  making  it  evident 
that  the  affair  was  held  in  large  luxurious  compli 
ment  to  herself  alone,  though  not  thrusting  this  fact 
into  more  than  partial  prominence. 

Goldwin,  for  certain  marked  reasons  of  his  own, 
had  been  from  the  first  resolved  upon  the  attendance 
of  Mrs.  Ridgeway  Lee.  He  sent  no  invitation  to 
Mrs.  Van  Horn.  He  knew  that  Claire  suspected  the 
latter  of  adverse  feelings,  and  he  knew  no  more  than 
this.  But  Mrs.  Van  Horn  was  not  a  necessity  to  the 
success  of  his  festival ;  she  could  easily  be  replaced 
by  some  other  leader,  and  it  would  be  much  better 
not  to  invite  her  at  all  than  to  invite  her  without 
avail.  But  Mrs.  Lee  must  appear. 

He  had  been  prepared  for  refusal,  and  it  promptly 
came.  On  the  evening  of  the  day  it  reached  him,  he 
presented  himself  at  Mrs.  Lee's  residence.  He  found 
her  alone.  She  had  denied  herself  to  four  or  five 
other  gentlemen  during  the  previous  hour.  She  had 
expected  Goldwin,  though  she  tried  to  look  deco 
rously  surprised  when  he  entered  her  elegant  little 
drawing-room. 

She  had  chosen  to  clothe  herself  in  black  satin, 
the  shimmer  of  whose  tense-drawn  fabric  about  bust 
and  waist,  and  of  its  trailing  draperies  about  the 
lower  portion  of  her  lithe  person,  gave  to  her  strange 
beauty  an  almost  startling  oddity.  An  irreverent 
critic  who  had  recently  seen  her  in  this,  robe  had  de 
clared  that  she  made  him  think  of  a  wet  eel.  Allow 
ing  the  comparison  to  have  been  apt,  if  ungallant, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  she  could  have  suggested  only 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  307 

an  eel  very  much  humanized,  with  a  face  of  quite  as 
extraordinary  feminine  beauty  as  that  possessed  by 
the  deadly  lady  whom  Keats  so  weirdly  celebrated. 

Her  dark  eyes  seemed  to-night  lit  with  the  smoul 
dering  fires  of  fever.  The  moment  Goldwin  looked 
well  at  her  he  made  up  his  mind  that  he  was  to  have 
a  hard  time  of  it.  She  had  undoubtedly  guessed  the 
purport  of  his  dinner,  and  she  meant  to  tell  him  so. 
He  strongly  suspected  that  she  meant  to  tell  him  so, 
as  well,  with  considerable  verbal  embellishment. 

He  pretended,  in  a  playful  way,  to  be  dazzled  by 
her  fantastic  appaivl.  He  put  both  hands  up  to  his 
eyes  and  rubbed  them,  in  a  comic  imitation  of  bewil 
derment. 

"  I  'in  not  prepared  to  tell  you  whether  I  like  it  or 
not,"  he  said,  while  he  sank  into  one  of  the  big, 
yielding  chairs.  "  But  I  consider  it  splendidly  effec 
tive.  It  makes  you  appear  so  beautifully  slippery. 
You  look  as  if  you  could  slide  into  an  indiscretion, 
and  then  squirm  right  out  again  without  being  ob 
served  by  anybody." 

Mrs.  Lee  bit  her  lip.  She  had  often  let  him  say 
more  saucy  things  than  this  to  her,  and  not  resented 
them.  But  to-night  her  mood  held  no  such  tolerance. 

"  You  once  promised  me,"  she  said,  "  that  you 
would  never  speak  rudely  about  my  personal  appear 
ance."  She  seemed  to  shape  with  some  difficulty 
this  and  the  sentences  that  fellowed  it.  "  I  did  not 
make  myself.  Perhaps  if  I  had  been  granted  that 
privilege  I  might  have  hit  on  a  type  more  suited  to 
your  taste." 

Goldwin  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Oh,  come,"  he 
said,  "  you  've  let  me  chaff  you  a  hundred  times  be 
fore,  and  treated  it  as  a  joke." 


SOS  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

He  was  still  seated,  while  she  stood.  He  forgot  to 
think  this  a  discourtesy  toward  her ;  he  would  have 
remembered  it  as  such  with  almost  any  other  woman  ; 
his  outward  manners  were  usually  blameless ;  but 
perhaps  he  was  no  more  at  fault  than  she  herself  for 
the  present  negligence. 

As  it  was,  it  did  not  strike  her.  She  was  think 
ing  of  other  weightier  things.  A  delicate  table  stood 
near  her,  and  she  half  turned  toward  it,  breaking 
from  a  massive  basket  of  crimson  roses  one  whose 
rich  petals  were  heavy-folded  and  perfect,  and  fixing 
it  in  the  bosom  of  her  night-dark  dress.  Goldwin 
was  watching  her  covertly  but  keenly  all  the  while. 
She  seemed  to  him  like  an  incarnate  tempest  —  he 
knew  her  so  well.  His  furtive  but  sharp  gaze  saw 
the  tremor  in  her  slim,  pale  fingers  as  she  dealt  with 
the  discompanioned  rose. 

Finding  that  she  did  not  answer,  he  went  on : 
"  You  're  out  of  sorts  to-night.  Has  anything  gone 
wrong  during  the  day  ?  " 

She  tossed  her  head  for  an  instant,  and  her  lip 
curled  so  high  that  it  showed  the  white  edge  of  her 
teeth.  But  promptly  she  seemed  to  decide  upon  a 
mild  and  not  a  harsh  retort.  "  I  have  been  at  the 
hospital  most  of  the  afternoon,"  she  said.  "  I  prayed 
for  an  hour  beside  a  poor  old  woman  who  was  dying 
with  cancer."  She  gave  a  quick,  nervous  shudder. 
"  It  was  horrible."  She  closed  her  eyes,  then  slowly 
unclosed  them.  "  Horrible,"  she  repeated,  in  her 
most  measured  way. 

"  It  must  have  been  simply  ghastly,"  observed 
Goldwin,  with  dryness.  "  For  Heaven's  sake,  why 
don't  you  swear  off  these  debauches  of  charity  for  at 
least  a  month  or  two  ?  They  're  completely  breaking 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  309 

you  up.  It's  they  that  put  you  in  these  frightful 
humors." 

She  came  several  steps  toward  him,  and  sank  into 
a  chair  quite  close  at  his  side.  She  twisted  herself  so 
inordinately,  in  taking  this  new  posture,  that  her  de 
tractors  would  have  decided  the  whole  performance 
one  of  her  most  aggravating  affectations.  "  What 
frightful  humors  ? "  she  asked.  This  question  had 
the  same  loitering,  somnolent  intonation  that  always 
belonged  to  her  speech,  and  contrasted  so  quaintly 
with  her  nervous,  volatile  turns  and  poses. 

Goldwin  saw  that  the  time  had  come.  "  Oh,  you 
know  what  I  mean,"  he  said.  "  You  went  and  re 
fused  my  dinner.  Of  course  you  did  n't  mean  it." 

"  I  did  mean  it,"  said  Mrs.  Lee,  very  low  indeed. 

"  Nonsense.  I  'm  like  an  enterprising  salesman.  I 
won't  take  *  no  '  for  an  answer." 

"  I  shall  give  you  no  other." 

He  leaned  nearer  to  her.  "  What  on  earth  is  the 
matter?  "he  inquired.  "I  am  going  to  make  it  a 
very  nice  affair.  I  don't  think  I  've  ever  done  any 
thing  quite  as  pretty  as  this  will  be.  You  used  to 
tell  me  that  no  one  did  these  things  just  as  well  as  I. 
You  used  to  say  that  if  I  ever  left  you  out  of  one  of 
my  state  feasts  you  'd  cut  my  acquaintance." 

She  had  drooped  her  small,  dark  head  while  he 
spuke,  but  now,  as  he  finished,  she  raised  it.  Her 
tones  were  still  low,  but  unwonted  speed  was  in  her 
words. 

"  I  don't  doubt  you  will  make  it  a  very  nice  affair. 
But  you  give  it  because  you  want  to  give  distinction 
to  a  woman  who  has  bewitched  you.  Don't  deny 
that  Mrs.  Hollister  will  be  there.  I  know  it— *I  am 
certain  of  it." 


310  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAti. 

"  I  don't  deny  it,"  said  Goldwin,  crossing  his  legs 
quietly,  "  now  that  you  afford  ine  a  chance  of  stat 
ing  it." 

He  saw  her  control  an  inward  shiver  from  display 
ing  more  overt  signs. 

"  Oh,  well,"  she  said,  "  do  not  let  us  discuss  the 
question  any  more.  I  sent  you  my  regret  to-day.  I 
have  another  engagement,  as  I  told  you." 

"  Another  engagement  is  easily  broken." 

"It  is  a  dinner  engagement." 

"I  don't  believe  you." 

"  You  are  grossly  rude." 

"  I  know  I  am.  It 's  perfectly  awful.  It 's  the  first 
time  I  ever  insulted  a  woman.  I  shall  be  in  the 
depths  of  repentance  all  day  to-morrow.  I  don't 
know  if  I  shall  ever  really  pardon  myself.  But  ... 
I  don't  believe  you,  all  the  same." 

He  said  this  with  a  mournful  deliberation  that 
would  at  any  other  time  have  roused  her  most  enjoy 
ing  laughter;  for  he  had  in  him  the  rich  fund  of  true 
comedy,  as  many  of  his  friends  were  wont  loudly  to 
attest,  and  at  will  he  could  draw  flattering  plaudits  of 
mirth  from  even  the  gloomiest  hearer. 

But  Mrs.  Lee  did  not  show  the  glimpse  of  a  smile. 

"  There  is  no  use,"  she  said.  u  I  have  given  you 
my  answer.  I  shall  not  go.  I  shall  not  permit  you 
to  make  of  my  name  and  position  a  mere  idle  conven 
ience.  I  shall  not  lend  you  either  one  or  the  other, 
that  it  may  serve  your  purpose  in  presenting  to  so 
ciety  any  adventuress  who  may  have  pleased  your 
fancy." 

Goldwin  was  very  angry  at  this  speech.  She  had 
no  i<l<4H  how  angry  it  had  made  him,  as  he  quietly 
rose  and  faced  her. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  311 

"  What  right  have  you  to  call  her  an  adventur 
ess  ?  "  he  asked. 

Her  eyes  flashed  as  she  looked  up  at  him.  "  Of 
course  she  is  one.  Her  husband,  too,  is  an  adven 
turer.  They're  both  frying  to  push  themselves  in 
among  the  best  people.  And  you  are  helping  them. 
You  are  helping  him  because  of  her;  and  you  are 
helping  her  .  .  .  well,  you  are  helping  her  because 
of  herself." 

Goldwin  gave  a  smile  at  this.  She  perceived,  then, 
how  very  angry  he  was.  She  knew  his  smile  so  well 
that  when  it  came,  different  from  any  other  she  had 
ever  seen  on  the  same  lips,  it  struck  her  by  its  cold 
novelty. 

"  You  called  upon  this  adventuress,"  he  said;  "  you 
were  willing  to  do  that." 

"  Yes  —  to  please  you."     . 

"  Allow  that  as  your  reason.  You  called  on  her  in 
private  to  please  me.  You  will  not  meet  her  in  public 
to  please  me.  Is  not  that  just  how  the  case  stands?  " 

She  fixed  her  eyes  on  his  face.  Her  feverish  look 
had  grown  humid.  He  could  plainly  note  that  her 
lips  trembled.  She  was  so  alive,  now,  to  a  sense  of 
his  being  very  indignant,  that  this  realization  fright 
ened  her,  and  she  let  him  see,  with  pitiable  candor, 
just  how  much  it  frightened  her. 

"  You  are  in  love  with  Mrs.  Hollister,"  she  mur 
mured.  "  And  —  she  is  in  love  with  you." 

She  showed  him  the  full  scope  of  his  power  by  those 
few  words.  He  walked  toward  the  door,  pausing  on 
its  threshold. 

"  I  won't  remain  to  hear  you  insult  a  woman  whom 
I  respect,"  he  said  ;  "  you  called  her  an  adventuress, 
which  is  untrue ;  you  now  say  something  even  worse." 


312  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  Will  you  deny  it  ?  "  she  asked,  rising. 

Her  question  had  a  plaintive,  querulous  ring,  which 
the  circumstances  made  something  more  than  pa 
thetic. 

"  Will  you  reconsider  your  refusal?  "  he  said,  mak 
ing  the  interrogation  a  reply. 

She  sank  back  into  her  seat  again. 

"  No,  never  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Good  night,"  he  returned.  He  went  immediately 
out  into  the  hall,  put  on  his  coat  and  hat,  and  left  the 
house. 

"  She  will  yield,"  he  told  himself.  "  I  am  sure  of 
it.  She  showed  me  that  she  would  if  I  were  only 
hard  enough.  I  mean  to  be  hard.  I  can  make  it  up 
in  kindness  by  and  by." 

He  waited  three  days.  No  word  came  to  him  from 
Mrs.  Lee.  But  on  the  fourth  word  came  to  him. 

"  I  knew  it,"  he  thought,  as  he  read  her  note. 

Mrs.  Lee  went  to  the  dinner  in  a  truly  marvelous 
gown.  It  was  some  curious  blending  of  crimson  and 
black  silks,  that  made  her  look  sombrely  clad  in  one 
attitude  and  luridly  clad  in  the  next.  Her  only  jew 
elry  was  a  thin  snake  of  rubies  about  her  slender 
throat,  and  the  head  of  the  snake,  set  directly  beneath 
her  chin,  was  a  big  gold  one,  having  two  large  garnets 
for  eyes.  All  the  women  pronounced  her  costume 
ridiculously  overdone.  All  the  men  professed  to  like 
it.  She  never  appeared  in  gayer  spirits.  Next  to 
Claire  she  was  the  most  notable  feminine  guest. 

But  Claire  ruled  absolute.  She  had  never  been 
more  beautiful,  perhaps  because  she  had  never  felt 
more  secretly  and  victoriously  exultant.  The  deli 
cious  music,  the  piercing  yet  tender  odor  of  the  lav 
ish  flowers,  the  insidious  potency  of  the  wines,  which 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  313 

she  sipped  sparingly  and  felt  dangerously  tingle 
through  her  veins  —  all  these  influences  wrought 
upon  her  a  species  of  stimulating  enthrallment  which 
made  the  whole  splendid  banquet  seem,  on  the  fol 
lowing  day,  like  some  enchanted  dream.  On  one 

O  •/    ' 

side  sat  Goldwin,  the  genius  who  had  created  this 
lovely  witchery,  urbane,  devoted,  allegiant ;  on  the 
other  side  sat  a  man  of  deserved  eminence,  a  wit,  a 
scholar,  a  statesman.  She  talked  with  both  compan 
ions,  and  it  could  not  be  said  that  she  then  charmed 
both,  for  one  was  already  her  loyal  devotee.  As  for 
the  other,  though  advanced  in  years  and  freighted 
with  pungent  experiences,  he  soon  tacitly  admitted 
that  he  had  at  last  found,  at  the  most  discriminating 
period  of  his  career,  a  woman  whose  graces  of  intelli 
gence  and  beauty  met  in  faultless  unison.  As  all  the 
ladies  rose,  leaving  the  gentlemen  to  their  coffee  and 
cigars,  he  leaned  toward  Goldwin,  even  before  Claire's 
draperies  had  swept  the  threshold  of  the  dining-room, 
and  significantly  murmured  :  — 

"  You  were  right.     She  is  an  event." 

That  dinner  was  the  stepping-stone  by  which  Claire 
mounted  into  immediate  triumph.  All  through  the 
next  year  she  was  the  reigning  favorite  in  just  that 
realm  where  she  had  aimed  to  reign.  Her  father 
had  died  a  pauper  and  been  buried  as  one.  She,  the 
mistress  of  many  thousands,  having  fixedly  remem 
bered  what  a  feeble,  disappointed,  obscure,  broken- 
down  man  had  said  to  her  in  early  childhood,  now 
stood  as  the  living,  actual  result  of  his  past  counsel. 
Years  ago  the  seed  had  been  sown  in  that  dingy  lit 
tle  basement  of  One -Hundred -and -Twelfth  Street. 
To-day  the  flower  bloomed,  rare  and  beautiful.  The 
little  girl  had  climbed  the  hill  to  its  top,  after  all. 


314  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

She  had  not  grown  tired  and  gone  home  before  the 
top  was  reached.  She  had  done  her  father's  bidding. 
She  was  sure  he  would  be  glad  if  he  knew. 

*  And  yet  am  I  quite  sure  ?  '  she  would  sometimes 
ask  herself.  '  Was  this  what  he  really  meant  when 
he  spoke  those  words  ?  ' 

She  knew  perfectly  the  folly  of  the  course  that  she 
now  pursued.  Her  occasional  self-questionings  were 
a  hypocrisy  that  she  realized  while  she  indulged  it. 
But  they  were  very  occasional.  She  had  slight  time 
for  introspection,  for  analysis  of  her  own  acts. 

Flattery  and  devotion  literally  poured  in  upon  her, 
like  the  new  wealth  that  continued  to  pour  in  upon 
her  husband.  The  house  in  Twenty-Eighth  Street 
was  soon  exchanged  for  a  spacious  mansion  on  Fifth 
Avenue.  Claire  ceased  to  know  even  the  number  of 
her  servants.  She  had  a  housekeeper,  who  superin 
tended  their  engagements  and  discharges.  She  dwelt 
in  an  atmosphere  of  excessive  luxury,  and  found  her 
self  loving  it  more  and  more  as  she  yielded  to  the 
spell  of  its  subtle  enervation. 

Her  second  winter  was  the  confirmation  of  her  sov 
ereignty.  As  the  phrase  goes,  she  was  asked  every 
where.  Her  bright  or  caustic  sayings  were  ever  on 
the  lips  of  loyal  quoters.  Her  toilettes  were  described 
with  journalistic  realism  in  more  than  a  single  news 
paper.  Cards  for  her  entertainments  were  eagerly 
sought,  and  often  vainly.  Foreigners  of  distinction 
drifted  into  her  drawing-rooms  as  if  by  a  natural 
process  of  attraction.  She  had  scarcely  a  moment  of 
time  to  herself  ;  when  she  was  not  entertaining  she 
was  being  entertained.  Her  admirers,  women  and 
men,  vied  in  efforts  to  secure  her  presence.  She  had 
acquired,  as  if  by  some  magic  instinct,  the  Last  needed 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  315 

personal  touch ;  she  liad  got  the  grand  air  to  perfec 
tion.  Diplomatists  who  had  met  and  known  the  most 
noted  beauties  of  European  courts  had  nothing  but 
praise  to  pay  her  serene  elegance  of  deportment,  the 
undulating  grace  of  her  step,  the  nice  melody  of  her 
voice,  the  fine  wizardry  of  her  smile.  She  had  never 
seen  Europe,  yet  she  might  have  spent  all  the  years 
of  her  youth  on  its  soil  with  no  lovelier  results  than 
those  which  now  marked  her  captivating  manner. 
She  was  American,  past  question,  to  transatlantic 
eyes ;  yet  these  found  in  her  only  the  original  buoy 
ancy  and  freshness  of  that  nationality,  without  a 
gleam  of  its  so-termed  coarseness. 

Foes,  of  course,  rose  up  against  her.  There  can  be 
no  sun  without  shadow.  She  had  made  herself  so 
distinct  a  rarity  that  cheapening  comment  could  not 
fail  to  begin  its  assault.  It  did  so,  in  hot  earnest. 
Two  women  had  denied  their  sanction  to  her  sudden 
popularity.  These  were  Mrs.  Van  Horn  and  Mrs. 
Ridgeway  Lee.  They  were  not  open  enemies  ;  nei 
ther,  to  all  appearances,  were  they  covert  ones.  They 
were  on  speaking  terms  with  her.  They  met  her  con 
stantly,  yet  they  offered  her  no  deference.  Deference 
was  what  she  now  required,  and  with  a  widely-ad 
mitted  right. 

The  invidious  statements  that  stole  into  circulation 
regarding  her  could  not  be  traced  either  to  the  ven 
geance  of  Beverley  Thurston's  sister  or  the  jealousy 
of  Stuart  Goldwin's  abandoned  worshiper.  It  is  pos 
sible  that  the  most  leal  of  Claire's  defenders  never 
thought  of  so  tracing  them.  But  the  statements 
were  made,  and  took  wing.  She  had  been  a  vulgar 
girl  of  the  people.  Her  parentage  was  of  the  most 
plebeian  sort.  A  lucky  marriage  had  given  her  the 


316  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

chance,  now  accepted  and  enlarged.  Her  maiden 
name  had  been  this,  that,  and  the  other.  She  was 
absolutely  nobody. 

Claire  heard  none  of  these  scorching  comments. 
She  reigned  too  haughtily  for  that.  Mrs.  Diggs 
heard  them,  but  Mrs.  Diggs  betrayed  no  sign  of  their 
existence.  Goldwin  was  now  devotedly  at  Claire's 
side  ;  they  were  repeatedly  seen  in  public  together  ; 
the  world  in  which  she  ruled  considered  it  a  splendid 
subjugation;  she  had  brought  the  great  Wall  Street 
King  obsequiously  to  her  feet. 

But  no  breath  of  slander  tainted  the  relation  be 
tween  them.  Claire  had  been  very  clever ;  she  had 
blunted  the  first  arrow,  so  to  speak.  She  had  done 
so  by  means  of  her  complete  innocence.  Goldwin 
was  in  love  with  her  ;  no  one  doubted  this.  It  was 
something  notable  to  have  said  of  one.  But  she  was 
so  safely  not  in  love  with  Goldwin  that  she  could 
continually,  by  strokes  of  frank  tact,  show  the  world 
her  own  calm  recipiency  and  his  entire  subservience- 
A  swift  yet  sure  chasm  widened  between  herself  and 
Hollister.  The  latter  had  become  a  man  of  incessant 
and  imperative  engagements.  Claire  never  dreamed 
of  feeling  a  jealous  pang,  and  yet  she  knew  that  her 
husband,  no  less  than  herself,  had  become  a  star  of 
fashion.  Hollister  was  assiduously  courted.  He  and 
Claire  would  now  meet  once  a  day,  and  sometimes 
not  so  often.  They  had  separate  apartments ;  it  was 
so  much  more  convenient  for  both.  The  same  din 
ner  -  engagement  frequently  claimed  them ;  but  on 
these  occasions  she  would  appear  in  the  lower  hall  to 
meet  him,  rustling  beneath  some  new  miracle  of 
dressmaking,  and  they  would  get  into  the  carriage 
together  and  be  driven  to  the  appointed  place.  At 


AX  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  317 

the  dinner  they  would  be  widely  separated.  He 
would  sit  beside  some  woman  glad  to  have  secured 
him ;  she  would  be  the  companion  of  some  man 
happy  because  of  her  nearness.  The  dinner  would 
break  up  ;  the  hour  would  be  somewhat  late  ;  they 
would  get  into  their  carriage  ;  Hollister  would  have 
an  appointment,  at  the  club,  or  somewhere.  lie 
would  let  Claire  into  the  great  new  house  with  his 
latch-key.  "  Good  night,"  he  would  say,  and  hurry 
off  into  the  carriage  that  had  waited  for  him.  Claire 
would  ascend  and  be  disrobed  by  a  sleepy  maid.  To.- 
morrow  there  would  perhaps  be  another  dinner,  of 
the  same  sort.  Or  it  might  be  an  affair  to  which  she 
went  alone,  and  from  which  Goldwin  accompanied 
her  home.  Goldwin  was  always  prepared  to  accom 
pany  her.  He  obeyed  her  nod. 

But  Hollister  was  still  her  devout  subject.  It  was 
merely  that  the  sundering  stress  of  circumstances  di 
vided  them.  He  did  not  forget  Claire  ;  he  postponed 
her.  Everything  was  in  a  whirl  with  him,  now  ;  ho 
was  shooting  rapids,  so  to  speak,  and  by  and  by  he 
would  be  in  still  water  again.  For  the  present,  he 
had  only  time  to  tell  himself  that  Claire  was  getting 
on  magnificently  well.  It  was  like  driving  four  or 
six  restive  horses  abreast,  with  his  wife  seated  at  his 
side.  He  must  attend  to  the  skittish  brutes,  as  it 
were  ;  her  safety,  no  less  than  his  own,  depended  on 
his  good  driving.  But  she  was  there  at  his  side  ; 
he  felt  comfortably  sure  of  this  fact,  though  he  could 
not  turn  and  look  at  her  half  often  enough. 

The  January  of  this  second  winter  had  been  pro 
lific  in  heavy  snow-storms,  and  the  sleighing  had 
filled  town  with  its  jocund  tinkles.  One  afternoon 
Claire,  leaning  back  in  a  commodious  sleigh,  and 


818  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

muffled  to  the  throat  in  furry  robes,  stopped  at  Mrs. 
Diggs's  house,  and  the  two  ladies  were  driven  to 
gether  into  the  Park.  It  was  a  perfect  afternoon  of 
its  kind.  There  was  no  wind  ;  the  cold  was  keen 
but  still ;  not  a  hint  of  thaw  showed  itself  in  the 
banks  of  powdery  snow  skirting  either  edge  of  tho 
sti'eets,  or  in  those  pure,  unroughened  lapses  which 
clad  the  spacious  Park,  beneath  the  black  asperity 
of  winter  trees,  traced  against  a  sky  of  steely  blue- 
ness. 

Claire  was  in  high  spirits ;  her  laugh  had  a  ring 
as  clear  as  the  weather.  Mrs.  Diggs  shivered  under 
the  protective  wraps  of  the  sleigh.  "  My  circula 
tion  was  never  meant  for  this  sort  of  thing,"  she  said, 
at  length.  "We've  gone  far  enough,  haven't  we, 
Claire  ?  It 's  nearly  dark,  too." 

This  was  a  most  glaring  fallacy,  coined  by  the 
desperation  of  poor  Mrs.  Diggs's  discomfort.  But  the 
chilly  light  was  growing  a  blue  gloom  above  the 
massed  housetops  when  the  two  ladies  found  them 
selves  at  Claire's  door. 

It  had  been  arranged  that  they  should  dine  quietly 
together  that  evening.  Hollister  would  not  be  at 
home,  and  Claire,  for  a  wonder,  would.  Mrs.  Diggs 
had  been  complaining,  of  late,  that  she  never  had 
a  moment  of  privacy  with  her  friend.  Claire  had 
agreed,  three  days  ago,  to  disappoint  for  one  night 
all  who  were  seeking  her  society.  "We  shall  have  a 
cosey  dinner,"  she  had  said,  "of  just  you  and  me. 
We  will  chat  of  everything  —  past,  present,  and  fu 
ture." 

Mrs.  Diggs  recalled  that  word  '  cosey '  as  she  en 
tered  Claire's  proud  dining-room,  with  its  lofty 
arched  ceiling,  where  little  stars  of  gold  gleamed 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  319 

from  dark  interspaces  between  massive  rafters  of 
walnut.  She  crouched  on  a  soft  rug  beside  the  deep, 
large  fire-place,  in  which  great  logs  were  blazing. 
And  while  she  basked  in  the  pleasant  glow,  her  eye 
wandered  about  the  grave  grandeurs  of  the  noble 
room,  scanning  its  dusky  traits  of  wainscot,  tapes 
try,  tropic  plants,  or  costly  pictures  :  for  all  was  in 
sombre  shadow  except  the  reddened  hearth  and  the 
small  central  table,  on  whose  white  cloth  two  great 
clusters  of  wax-lights  had  been  set,  stealing  their 
colors  from  a  group  of  flowers,  and  its  clean  sparkle 
from  the  glass  and  silver.  The  whole  table  was  like 
a  spot  of  light  amid  the  stately  dimness. 

"  Really,  very  splendid  indeed,  Claire,"  said  Mrs. 
Diggs,  in  a  sort  of  ruminative  ellipsis,  letting  her  eye 
presently  rest  on  the  tips  of  her  own  upheld  fingers, 
which  the  firelight  had  turned  into  that  milky  pink 
that  we  often  see  float  through  opals.  "  But  I  really 
think  I  liked  the  little  basement  house  better,  take 
it  all  in  all." 

"  Did  you  ?  "  murmured  Claire,  who  was  standing 
near  her,  enjoying  the  warmth,  but  not  bathing  in  it 
like  her  half-frozen  friend.  "  I  did  n't." 

A  very  impressive  butler  soon  glided  into  the 
room,  and  told  Madame  in  French  that  she  was 
served.  Mrs.  Diggs  scrambled  to  her  feet ;  the  maj 
esty  of  the  butler  had  something  to  do  with  her 
speed  in  performing  this  act,  though  hunger  was  per 
haps  concerned  in  it. 

"  That  dreadful  sleigh-ride  has  left  me  my  appe 
tite,"  she  said,  while  seating  herself  opposite  Claire, 
u  so  I  see  it  hasn't  quite  killed  me." 

"  I  think  you  will  survive  it,"  said  Claire,  with 
one  of  her  little  musical  laughs. 


320  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

There  was  not  much  talk  between  the  two  friends 
while  dinner  lasted,  and  what  there  was  took  a  des 
ultory  and  aimless  turn.  The  butler  waited  fault 
lessly;  there  were  eight  courses;  Claire  had  said  that 
it  would  be  a  very  plain  dinner,  and  Mrs.  Diggs  se 
cretly  smiled  as  she  remembered  the  words.  The 
cooking  was  perfect ;  it  had  all  of  what  the  gourmets 
would  call  Parisian  sentiment,  though  no  undue  rich 
ness.  Claire  ate  sparingly,  yet  with  apparent  relish. 
She  drank  a  little  champagne,  which  she  had  poured 
into  a  goblet  and  mixed  with  water.  There  were 
other  wines,  but  she  touched  none  of  them.  Mrs. 
Diggs  did,  however,  sipping  three  or  four,  until  she 
lost  her  chalky  wanness  of  tint  and  almost  got  a 
touch  of  actual  color. 

"  I  never  take  but  one  wine,  as  a  rule,"  she  said, 
"  and  that 's  claret.  But  the  sleigh-ride  chilled  me  to 
the  bone.  I  begin  to  feel  quite  warm  and  comforta 
ble,  now.  Do  you  always  take  champagne,  Claire  ?  " 

"  Always.  But  only  a  little.  It 's  companionable 
to  touch  your  lips  to,  now  and  then,  when  you  sit 
through  those  very  long  dinners.  I  suppose  the  dull 
ness  of  certain  society  originally  drove  me  to  it. 
But  I  am  very  careful." 

'  What  an  air  she  said  that  with ! '  thought  Mrs. 
Diggs.  '  And  one  year  ago,  at  Coney  Island,  she  was 
unknown,  unnoticed.' 

The  whole  repast  was  exquisite.  While  it  lasted, 
Claire  never  once  spoke  to  the  butler.  He  needed  no 
orders  ;  everything  was  done  as  well  and  as  silently  as 
it  could  be  done.  In  his  way  he  was  an  irreproach 
able  artist,  like  the  invisible  chef  below  stairs,  who 
had  evoked  this  blameless  dinner  from  the  chaos  of 
the  uncooked. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  321 

Just  at  the  end  of  dessert,  Claire  said  to  her  guest  : 
"  Shall  you  take  coffee  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  replied  Mrs.  Diggs  ;  "  I  don't  even 
dare.  I  'm  nervous  enough  as  it  is." 

But  Claire  had  coffee,  black  as  ink,  and  served  to 
her  in  a  tiny  cup  as  thin  as  a  rose-leaf.  Presently 
the  two  friends  became  aware  that  they  were  alone. 
The  butler  had  gone  without  seeming  to  go.  Like  a 
mysterious  au  revoir  he  had  left  behind  him  two  crys 
tal  finger-bowls,  with  a  slim  slice  of  lemon  floating  in 
each.  Claire  had  finished  her  coffee.  She  rose  and 
leaned  toward  the  flowers  in  the  centre  of  the  table. 
As  her  fingers  played  among  them  they  seemed  to 
break,  almost  of  their  own  accord,  into  two  separate 
bunches.  She  went  round  to  Mrs.  Diggs  and  gave 
her  one  of  these,  retaining  the  other.  Presently  each 
had  made  for  herself  an  impromptu  corsage.  Mrs. 
Diggs  had  not  spoken  for  several  minutes ;  she  had 
indeed  been  abnormally  quiet  ever  since  the  butler's 
departure.  The  calm,  graceful  splendor  of  it  all  had 
awed  her.  It  had  such  a  finish,  such  a  choiceness, 
such  gentle  dignity  of  execution. 

"  Shall  we  sit  near  the  fire  ?  "  asked  Claire,  as  to 
gether  they  moved  from  the  table.  "  Or  would  you 
prefer  one  of  the  drawing-rooms  ?  " 

"  The  fire  is  so  lovely,"  said  Mrs.  Diggs.  "  Let 's 
sit  here."  She  dropped  into  a  chair  as  she  spoke. 
Claire  also  seated  herself,  not  far  from  the  fire,  though 
a  little  distance  away  from  her  friend. 

Suddenly  the  flood-gates  of  Mrs.  Diggs's  enthusi 
asm  burst  open.  She  had  considerable  silence  to 
make  up  for.  "  Oh,  Claire,"  she  exclaimed,  "  it 's 
just  perfect !  I  don't  see  how  you  do  it !  I  don't  see 

where  on  earth  you  got  the  experience  from  !     If  I 
21 


322  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

had  seven  times  your  money  I  could  n't  begin  to  have 
my  household  machinery  move  in  this  delightful,  well- 
oiled  way.  My  servants  would  steal ;  my  chef  would 
get  drunk  ;  my  magnificence  would  all  go  awry  ;  I  'in 
sure  it  would  !  " 

Claire  laughed.  "  I  'm  very  composed  about  it 
all,"  she  said.  "  I  keep  quite  cool.  I  like  it,  too. 
There  is  a  great  deal  in  that.  I  don't  mean  manage 
ment  so  much  as  the  superintendence  of  others'  man 
agement.  I'm  a  sort  of  born  overseer." 

"  You  're  a  born  leader."  Mrs.  Diggs  was  looking 
at  her  very  attentively  now.  "  And  how  capably  you 
are  leading  !  How  you  've  carried  your  point,  Claire  ! 
I  observe  you,  and  absolutely  marvel  !  I  can't  realize 
that  you  are  really  and  truly  my  Coney  Island  Claire, 
don't  you  know  ?  You  've  shot  up  so.  You  're  so 
mighty.  It 's  like  a  dream." 

"  It 's  a  very  pleasant  dream." 

She  said  this  archly  and  mirthfully.  But  Mrs. 
Diggs  on  a  sudden  became  solemn. 

"  Claire,"  she  went  on,  "  you  remember  what  I  told 
you  in  our  little  confab,  the  other  day,  at  the  Lander- 
dales'  reception  ?  It 's  true,  my  dear.  You  're  like  a 
person  at  a  gambling-table,  who  begins  to  play  for 
pastime  and  ends  by  playing  for  greed.  You  know  I 
dote  on  you,  and  you  know  I  never  choose  my  words 
when  I  'm  in  downright  earnest.  Your  love  for  pomp 
and  luxury,  my  dear,  is  becoming  a  vice.  Yes,  an 
actual  vice.  You  don't  take  your  triumphs  moder 
ately,  as  you  do  your  champagne-and-water.  You 
drink  deep  of  them,  and  let  them  fly  to  your  head. 
Oh,  I  can  see  it  well  enough.  And  1  tremble  for  you, 
I  tremble,  Claire,  because  "... 

"Well?     Because?"  . 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  323 

She  put  these  questions  with  a  smile,  as  Mrs.  Diggs 
paused.  But  it  was  a  smile  of  the  lips  only. 

"  Oh,  because  affairs  might  change  in  a  day,  almost 
an  hour.  You  know  just  what  vast  risks  your  hus 
band  constantly  runs.  You  know  what  might  hap 
pen." 

Claire  rose  at  this.  Her  repose  was  gone  ;  her 
piquant  excitability  had  seemed  abruptly  to  return. 
She  did  not  appear  in  the  least  angry.  Mrs.  Diggs 
would  have  liked  it  better  if  she  had  shown  a  wrath 
ful  sign  or  two. 

"  Don't  let  us  talk  of  those  grim  matters,  please," 
she  said.  She  came  very  close  to  her  companion,  and 
then,  taking  both  the  latter's  hands,  sank  down  on 
her  knees.  Her  face  was  lit  with  a  charming  yet 
restless  cheerfulness.  "  Dear  friend,  you  spoke  a 
minute  ago  of  my  triumphs.  Do  you  know,  I  've 
never  secured  just  what  I  wanted  until  to-day  ?  You 
thought  I  had,  but  you  were  wrong.  Shall  I  tell 
you  why?"  Mrs.  Diggs  was  inwardly  thinking,  as 
one  ill-favored  but  generous  woman  will  sometimes 
think  of  another,  how  purely  enchanting  was  her 
manner,  and  how  richly  she  deserved  to  win  the  so 
cial  distinction  she  had  attained. 

"  I  suppose  you  mean,  Claire,  that  Hollister  to-day 
completed  the  last  thousand  of  his  fourth  or  fifth  mill 
ion,  eh?" 

"  Oh,  not  at  all.  I  don't  mean  anything  of  the 
sort.  I  don't  know  anything  about  Herbert's  affairs, 
nowadays.  He  keeps  them  all  to  himself." 

"  Well,  then,  what  is  it?" 

"  You  '11  laugh  when  you  hear.  You  recollect  the 
great  ladies'  luncheon  that  I  am  to  give  next  Fri- 
day?" 


324  AN1  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

"  Of  course  I  do.     I  'm  going  to  honor  it." 

"And  so  are  two  others.  Mrs.  Van  Horn  and 
Mrs.  Ridgeway  Lee.  They  have  never  honored  any 
thing  of  mine  until  now.  Poor  Mrs.  Arcularius 
yielded,  and  bowed  before  me,  long  ago.  My  old 
school-enemy,  Ada  Gerrard,  more  freckled,  more  ar 
rogant,  more  stupid  than  ever,  is  one  of  my  most 
willing  allies.  I  had  conquered  them  all,  but  I  could 
not  conquer  those  two  women.  They  stood  aloof, 
and  their  standing  aloof  was  a  perpetual  distress." 

"  Claire,  Claire,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Diggs,  "  you  make 
me  wonder  at  you  !  What  was  the  hostility  of  these 
two  women,  whether  open  or  repressed  ?  You  had 
all  the  others  to  pay  you  court.  Why  should  you 
have  cared?  They  saw  your  success.  They  are 
powerful,  but  their  power  could  not  keep  you  from 
asserting  and  maintaining  yours.  I  repeat,  why 
should  you  care  ?  " 

"  I  did  care.  But  it  is  all  over  now."  She  rose  to 
her  feet,  with  a  full  laugh,  as  she  said  these  words. 
"  They  are  coining  to  my  luncheon.  They  have  both 
accepted.  They  have  acknowledged  me.  I  have 
forced  them  to  do  so." 

She  uttered  that  last  sentence  with  a  mock  fierce 
ness  that  ended  in  laughter.  But  she  could  not  hide 
from  her  friend  the  intense  seriousness  from  which 
these  expressions  had  sprung. 

Before  Mrs.  Diggs  could  answer,  a  servant  entered 
the  room  by  one  of  the  draped  doorways  leading  into 
the  salons  beyond.  He  was  not  the  butler,  who  had 
so  admirably  served  them  at  dinner,  but  a  footman, 
charged  with  other  special  offices.  He  handed  Claire 
a  card,  which  she  read  and  tossed  aside.  The  next 
moment  she  dismissed  him  by  a  slight  motion  of  the 
hand. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  325 

"  Let  me  see  that  card,"  said  Mrs.  Diggs.  "  Has 
anybody  called  whom  I  know  ?  " 

Claire  was  looking  straight  into  the  tumbled,  lurid 
logs  of  the  hearth. 

"  Yes,  you  know  him,  of  course,"  she  said.  "  It 
was  only  Stuart  Goldwin.  I  am  not  at  home  to 
night.  Not  to  any  one  except  you,  I  mean.  I  gave 
orders." 

A  silence  ensued.  Mrs.  Diggs  presently  made  one 
of  her  plunges.  "  Claire,  they  say  that  Goldwin  is 
madly  in  love  with  you." 

She  gave  a  sharp  turn  of  the  neck,  fixing  her  eyes 
on  her  friend's  face.  "  That  is  all  they  say,  I  hope. 
They  can't  say  —  well,  you  understand  what  they 
can  not  say." 

"  That  you  care  for  him  ?  Well,  no.  .  .  .  You 
have  been  very  discreet.  You  have  arranged  won 
derfully.  Very  few  women  could  have  done  it  with 
the  same  nicety." 

Claire  threw  back  her  head,  with  a  haughty,  fleet 
ing  smile.  "  Any  woman  could  have  done  it  who  felt 
safe  —  perfectly  safe,  as  I  feel." 

"  You  mean  that  this  grand  Goldwin,  who  sways 
the  stock  -  market,  can't  quicken  your  pulse  by  one 
degree." 

She  looked  steadily  at  Mrs.  Diggs.  "I  did  not 
say  that  I  meant  that.  But  I  do,  if  you  choose  to 
ask  me  point  blank.  We  're  very  good  friends.  He 
amuses  me.  I  fancy  that  I  amuse  him.  If  I  do  more 
he  does  n't  tell  me  so.  He  understands  what  would 
happen  if  he  did." 

She  was  staring  at  the  fire  again.  Its  lustres 
played  upon  the  silken  folds  of  her  dress,  and  made 
the  gold  glimmers  start  and  fade  in  her  chestnut 
hair, 


326  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Mrs.  Diggs  was  not  reclining  in  her  chair ;  she  was 
leaning  sideways,  with  both  black  eyes  riveted  on 
Claire's  half-averted  face. 

"  Claire,"  she  said,  "  I  'ra  so  awfully  glad  to  hear 
you  say  that.  It  makes  me  like  you  better,  if  such 
a  thing  were  possible.  Upon  my  word,  to  be  frank, 
in  the  most  friendly  way,  I  did  think  there  was  a 
little  danger,  don't  you  know,  of  ...  Well,  you've 
settled  all  doubts,  of  course.  But  then,  my  dear,  you 
never  were  enormously  fond  of  llollister.  You  let 
him  adore  you,  don't  you  know?  Oh,  I've  seen  it 
all.  There 's  no  use  in  getting  angry." 

"  I  'm  not  angry,"  said  Claire.  She  was  again 
looking  full  at  her  friend.  She  had  put  one  dainty- 
booted  foot  on  the  low  gilt  trellis  which  rose  between 
the  rug  and  the  hearthstone.  "We  seem  to  drift 
upon  very  unpleasant  subjects  this  evening,"  she  con 
tinued.  "  I  am  afraid  our  little  intimate  reunion  is 
not  going  to  be  a  success." 

"  You  are  angry ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Diggs,  re 
proachfully'.  "  You  've  changed,  Claire.  Y'ou  're  not 
the  same  to  me  as  you  were  before  you  became  a 
great  lady.  Now,  don't  deny  it.  You  feel  your  oats, 
as  my  dear  Manhattan  would  say.  Yrou  keep  me  at 
a  distance.  Yrou  "  — 

Here  Mrs.  Diggs  paused,  for  the  same  footman 
who  had  before  appeared  now  made  a  second  en 
trance.  This  time  he  handed  Claire  a  note.  "  There 
is  no  answer,  Madame,"  he  said  in  French,  and  at 
once  softly  vanished. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  Claire,  as  she  tore  open  the 
envelope.  Mrs.  Diggs  watched  her  while  she  read 
the  contents  of  the  note.  Her  perusal  took  some 
time.  She  read  the  three  written  pages  once,  twice, 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  327 

thrice.     Her  face  had  grown  very  grave  in  the  mean 
while. 

Suddenly  she  crumpled  the  note  in  one  hand,  and 
flung  it  into  the  fire.  Her  eyes  flashed  and  her  lip 
quivered  as  she  did  so. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Claire,"  appealed  her  friend, 
"what  is  the  matter?  I  suppose  Cornelia  or  Sylvia 
Lee  sends  a  regret  for  luncheon.  You  are  so  foolish 
to  mind  what  they  do !  You  recollect  what  I  used 
to  tell  you  about  Cornelia.  But  why  should  you 
mind  her  airs  and  caprices  now?  You  are  utterly 
above  her  —  or  rather,  you  have  shown  her  that  two 
can  reign  in  the  same  kingdom.  You  could  cut  her 
dead  with  perfect  impunity.  That 's  a  good  deal  to 
say,  don't  you  know,  but  you  positively  could  !  " 

•"No,  no,"  said  Claire,  with  a  clouded  face  and  a 
little  wave  of  the  hand,  "  it  has  nothing  to  do  with 
either  of  those  women.  It  is  "  .  .  .  here  she  paused, 
and  her  breath  came  quick.  "  It  is  from  Beverley 
Thurston." 

"  Beverley  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Diggs.  "  Why,  he 's 
in  Europe." 

"He  got  back  yesterday.  He  has  learned  about 
me.  I  suppose  his  sister  has  told  him.  •  And  he 
writes  to  me  in  a  tone  of  impertinence.  Yes,  it 's 
nothing  else.  He  writes  to  me  as  if  I  were  some  sin 
ful  creature.  He  presumes  to  be  sorry  for  me.  He 
says  that  he  will  pay  me  a  visit  if  I  can  spare  him  an 
hour  from  the  giddy  life  I  am  leading.  ...  I  don't 
remember  the  exact  words  he  uses ;  it  is  not  so  much 
what  he  writes  as  what  he  seems  to  write.  The 
whole  note  breathes  of  patronage  and  commisera 
tion.  To  me!  —  think  of  it!  What  right  has  he? 
What  right  did  I  ever  give  him  ?  " 


o 


328  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Mrs.  Diggs  started  up  from  her  chair.  "  Why, 
my  dear  Claire,"  she  said,  "  you  are  greatly  ex 
cited!" 

"I  am  miserable  ! ''  cried  Claire.  She  almost  stag 
gered  toward  Mrs.  Diggs,  and  flung  both  arms  about 
her  friend's  neck.  "  I  am  miserable  —  miserable  !  " 
she  went  on,  with  a  sudden  paroxysm  of  tears.  She 
leaned  her  proud  young  head  on  Mrs.  Diggs's  bony 
shoulder,  beginning  to  sob  quite  wildly.  "  Do  I  de 
serve  reproaches  ?  Have  I  been  so  wrong  ?  What 
evil  have  I  done  ?  Let  my  conscience  trouble  me  if 
it  will,  but  he  is  not  my  conscience.  How  dare  he 
reproach  me  ?  " 

A  violent  seizure  of  sobs  made  Claire  incapable  of 
farther  speech.  Mrs.  Diggs  let  the  clinging  arms 
clasp  her.  She  did  not  know  what  to  answer ;  she 
scarcely  knew  what  to  think.  She  only  felt,  at  that 
unexpected  moment,  that  she  loved  Claire  very  much, 
and  would  always  stay  her  stanch  friend,  no  matter 
what  bitter  ill  might  overtake  her. 


XVIII. 

As  Claire  was  descending  into  the  lower  hall,  at 
about  four  o'clock  the  next  afternoon,  she  saw  her 
husband  enter  the  house  with  his  latch-key.  She 
quickened  her  step  a  little,  and  met  him  at  the  land 
ing  of  the  stairs.  They  had  not  seen  each  other  for 
twenty-four  hours;  she  had  breakfasted  in  her  room, 
that  morning,  as  was  of  late  almost  habitual  with 
her,  and  by  the  time  that  she  left  it  he  had  been 
driven  away  in  his  brougham.  On  the  previous  night 
he  had  reached  home  long  after  she  had  retired  to 
bed.  All  this  was  no  new  thing.  Its  first  and  sec 
ond  occurrence  had  shocked  them  both,  as  an  unfore 
seen  result  of  their  altered  existence.  But  repetition 
had  set  it  securely  among  the  commonplaces.  They 
accepted  it,  now,  with  a  matter-of-course  placidity. 

"  I  was  going  to  the  Vanvelsors'  reception,"  Claire 
said.  "  Did  you  think  of  dropping  in  ?  " 

"No,"  answered  Hollister.  He  had  taken  her 
hand,  and  was  holding  it  while  he  spoke.  The  next 
moment  he  kissed  her  cheek,  and  soon  let  his  eye 
wander  over  the  complex  tastefulness  of  her  attire, 
lie  then  drew  her  arm  within  his  own,  and  led  her 
toward  the  near  drawing-room,  whose  threshold  they 
crossed.  Except  his  recorded  monosyllable,  he  had 
said  nothing  for  an  appreciable  time,  ami  Claire,  re 
garding  his  face  with  a  sidelong  glance,  had  already 
detected  there  marked  signs  of  worriuient. 


330  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  No,"  he  presently  continued,  taking  a  seat  on  one 
of  the  rich-clad  sofas,  and  gently  forcing  her  to  sit 
beside  him.  "  I  had  no  idea  of  going  there.  I  don't 
feel  like  anything  gay,  Claire.  Things  are  doing 
horribly  on  the  Street.  There  's  a  dreadful  squall.  I 
hope  it  will  be  only  a  squall,  and  soon  blow  over." 
He  then  named  a  certain  stock  in  which  he  had  very 
comprehensive  interests.  "  It  has  dropped  in  the 
most  furious  fashion,"  he  proceeded.  "  Claire,  I  've 
lost  seventy  thousand  dollars  to-day,  if  I  've  lost  a 
penny." 

He  talked  more  technically  of  his  ill-luck  after  that, 
and  told  her  what  he  believed  to  be  the  reason  of  the 
adverse  change.  She  listened  with  great  attention. 
She  knew  so  much  of  Wall  Street  matters  that  she 
scarcely  missed  a  point  in  all  that  he  explained. 

"  So  Goldwin  is  on  the  other  side,"  she  said,  when 
he  had  finished. 

"  Yes,  Goldwin  is  safe.  But  you  can't  tell  -what 
to-morrow  will  bring.  No  one  is  really  safe.  Prices 
are  flying  about.  It 's  a  shocking  state  of  affairs." 

"  There  is  nothing  for  you  to  do  just  now,  is 
there?  "  Claire  asked,  after  a  little  pause. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I  may  get  a  few  telegrams  later.  But 
nothing  serious  will  happen  till  to-morrow." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm.  She  was  more 
alarmed  and  perplexed  than  she  chose  to  show.  "  Then 
come  with  me  to  the  reception,"  she  said;  "you 
might  as  well,  Herbert.  It  is  better  than  to  brood 
over  the  state  of  matters  down  there." 

He  shook  his  head  negatively.  "  I  should  make  a 
very  bad  guest,"  he  replied.  "  Go  yourself,  Claire. 
But  remember  one  thing."  He  was  looking  at  her 
very  fixedly  ;  his  frank  blue  eyes  were  full  of  a  soft 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  331 

yet  assertive  pain.  "  Our  life  may  alter  suddenly  for 
the  worse.  We  may  have  to  give  up  all  this."  He 
waved  one  haiul  here  and  there,  as  though  generaliz 
ing  the.  whole  luxurious  encompassment.  "  There  is 
no  telling  what  may  happen.  I  never  felt  the  inse 
curity  of  my  career  as  I  feel  it  now.  Do  you  know, 
Claire,  that  a  few  more  such  days  as  this  may  ruin 
me?" 

"  Ruin  you  ?  "  she  repeated. 

She  was  pale  as  those  words  left  her  lips.  Hollis- 
ter  had  proposed  to  her  a  terrible  possibility. 

"  Yes,  Claire,  I  mean  it.  Of  course  I  am  looking 
at  the  worst  that  might  happen.  But  I  want  to  pre 
pare  you.'' 

She  rose,  keeping  her  eyes  on  his.  "  I  don't  know 
what  I  should  do,"  she  said,  "  if  I  lost  what  I  have 
now.  I  have  grown  used  to  it,  Herbert.  I  won't 
let  myself  think  that  it  might  pass  away  —  that  I 
should  be  left  without  all  these  good  and  precious 
things." 

As  she  spoke  the  last  words  he  rose  also,  and  caught 
both  her  hands,  looking  eagerly  into  her  face. 

"  Claire,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  must  think  of  losing 
it  all !  You  must  try  to  reconcile  yourself  with  the 
idea !  If  you  don't,  the  ordeal  will  be  all  the  harder 
when  it  comes." 

"  When  it  comes?  "  she  again  repeated. 

"Yes  —  you  see  just  how  I  stand.  You  have 
grasped  the  whole  wretched  situation.  Of  course 
there's  a  chance  that  I  may  right  myself,  hut"  .  .  . 

"  I  '11  take  that  chance,"  she  broke  in,  quite  forci 
bly  withdrawing  her  hands.  "So  will  you,  Herbert. 
I  prefer  to  look  at  it  this  way.  We  will  both  take 
the  chance." 


332  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Hollister's  face  was  full  of  reproach. 

"Claire!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  see  that  you  love 
this  new  life  with  a  positive  passion !  " 

"  I  love  it  very  much,"  she  answered.  "  I  love  it 
so  much  that  I  should  suffer  fearfully  if  I  were  turned 
adrift  from  it.  ...  Come,  we  will  both  go  to  the 
Vanvelsors'  recoption." 

"  No,"  replied  Hollister.  He  walked  away  from 
her.  By  her  lack  of  sympathy  she  had  dealt  him  a 
cruel  sting. 

"  Very  well,"  responded  Claire,  as  she  watched  his 
receding  figure,  "/am  going." 

His  back  was  turned  to  her,  but  he  suddenly  veered 
round,  facing  her,  and  saying,  with  a  bitter  sharp 
ness  :  "  Go,  if  you  please  !  Go,  and  leave  me  to  my 
misery !  If  you  cared  for  me  in  the  right  manner, 
you  would  not  want  to  go.  You  would  want  to  stay 
with  me,  and  forget,  for  a  while  at  least,  the  gay 
crowds  that  admire  and  court  you  !  " 

These  words  were  -utterly  unexpected.  He  had 
never  before  alluded  to  her  lack  of  fondness.  She 
was  embarrassed,  ashamed.  For  a  moment  she  could 
not  speak.  Then  she  simulated  an  affronted  demeanor; 
it  seemed  her  sole  refuge.  "I  —  I  care  for  you  as 
much  as  I  have  always  cared,"  she  said.  "  No  more 
and  no  less." 

She  moved  toward  the  door  at  once,  after  thus 
speaking.  She  wondered  if  he  would  seek  to  detain 
her.  He  did  not.  .  .  .  She  entered  her  coupe  very 
soon  afterward.  During  the  drive  to  Mrs.  Vanvel- 
sor's  reception  she  had  a  keen  remembrance  of  just 
how  Hollister  had  looked  when  her  final  gaze  had 
dwelt  upon  him.  She  knew  that  she  had  stung  at 
last  into  life  the  perception  of  how  much  he  had  been 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  333 

giving  and  bow  little  be  bad  received.  Her  conscience 
sternly  smote  ber ;  she  was  more  tban  once  on  tbe 
verge  of  ordering  tbat  tbe  vebicle  sbould  be  driven 
borne  again.  But  in  ber  tben  mood  any  attempt  at 
amendment  seemed  wildly  futile.  Wbat  could  sbe 
say  to  ber  busband  ?  Tbat  sbe  deplored  bis  possible 
ruin  ?  Yes ;  but  not  tbat  sucb  regret  sprang  from 
tbe  sweet  sources  of  a  wifely,  unselfisb  love.  Sbe 
could  not  regard  tbe  possibility  of  being  flung  down 
ward  from  ber  present  bigb  place  witb  any  unselfish 
feeling.  Mrs.  Diggs  bad  toucbed  tbe  living  and  sen 
sitive  truth  last  nigbt:  ber  thirst  for  luxury  had 
grown  a  vice.  Soft  raiment,  obsequious  attendance, 
a  place  of  supreme  social  distinction,  all  these  had 
become  vitally,  imperiously  needful  to  ber  happiness. 
It  was  not  the  sort  of  happiness  which  she  believed 
high  or  fine.  Sbe  could  most  clearly  conceive  of 
another,  less  fervid,  less  material,  less  intoxicating, 
fraught  with  a  spiritual  incentive  and  an  intellectual 
meaning.  But  it  was  too  late  to  dream  of  tbat  now. 
Sbe  had  taken  the  bent;  she  must  bave  power  or 
nothing.  She  regarded  tbe  idea  of  being  obscure 
and  with  straitened  funds  as  a  calamity  simply  hor 
rible.  Hollister  must  think  her  cruel  as  death  ;  tbat 
was  inevitable.  Sbe  did  not  blame  him  for  blaming 
her.  Sbe  blamed  herself  for  having  married  him 
with  loveless  apathy.  His  reproachful  words  haunted 
her  —  but  what  could  she  do  ?  He  wanted  genuine 
tenderness,  sympathy,  fortifying  cheer.  But  he 
wanted  these  from  an  impulse  of  which  her  heart 
bad  always  been  incapable.  Fate  was  avenging  it 
self  upon  her.  Sbe  had  tampered  witb  holy  things. 
Her  marriage  oath  had  been  a  mockery.  Could  she 
go  back  and  tell  him  this  ?  Could  she  go  back  and 


334  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAtf. 

lie  to  him,  feign  before  him  ?  No ;  best  that  she 
should  not  go  back  at  all. 

The  reception  was  a  great  crush.  But  they  seemed 
to  make  way  for  her  with  a  sort  of  obeisance.  No 
one  jostled  against  her;  they  all  appeared  to  give 
her  a  little  elbow-room  in  the  throng,  while  they 
either  bowed  or  stared.  She  was  secretly  agonized. 
She  smiled  and  spoke  as  effectively  as  usual ;  she 
held  her  court  among  them  all,  as  of  late  she  had 
invariably  held  it.  But  her  heart  was  sick  ;  she  was 
besieged  by  a  portentous  dread,  and  she  was  pierced 
with  that  self -contempt  whose  length  of  thrust  is 
measured  by  a  consciousness  of  how  far  the  being  we 
might  have  become  surpasses  the  being  that  we  are. 
While  she  stood  the  centre  of  a  small,  courtly  group, 
a  gentleman  softly  pushed  his  way  into  her  notice 
and  held  out  his  hand.  She  took  the  hand,  and 
lookrd  well  into  the  face  of  him  who  had  extended 
it.  The  new-comer  was  Beverley  Thurston.  As 
Claire  looked  she  swiftly  noted  that  his  familiar  face 
wore  marked  signs  of  change.  He  had  distinctly 
aged.  The  gray  at  his  temples  had  grown  grayer; 
the  crows'-feet  under  his  hazel  eyes  were  a  little 
more  apparent;  peihaps,  too,  his  gravity  of  manner 
was  more  clearly  suggested  by  a  first  glance.  At 
the  same  time  she  felt  herself  regarding  him  in  a 
new  light  and  by  the  aid  of  amplified  experience. 
She  silently  and  fleetly  made  him  stand  a  test,  so 
to  speak,  and  at  once  decided  that  he  stood  it  well. 
She  had  met  no  man  since  they  had  parted  who  be 
spoke  high-breeding  and  gentility  with  more  immedi 
ate  directness. 

'"  I  thought  I  should  find  you  here,"  he  said,  as 
their  hands  dropped  apart. 


AMBITIOUS   WOMAN,  335 

"  Did  you  come  on  that  account  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  entirely,  because  I  had  great  fears  of  not  be 
ing  able  to  do  more  than  watch  you  from  a  dis 
tance." 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  with  a  pretty  graciousness,  and 
loud  enough  for  all  the  others  to  hear,  "  you  have  an 
excellent  claim  upon  me  —  that  of  old  acquaint 
ance." 

Her  surrounders  felt  that  there  was  either  dismis 
sal  or  desertion  waiting  for  them.  She  managed  to 
make  it  promptly  plain  that  her  favoring  heed  had 
been  wholly  transferred  to  Thurston  ;  she  showed  it 
to  them  with  a  cool  boldness  which  they  would  have 
resented  with  resolves  of  future  neglect  if  indulged 
in  by  many  another  woman  present ;  for  they  were 
all  men  who  put  a  solid  worth  upon  their  courtesies, 
and  had  a  fastidious  reluctance  ever  to  be  charged 
with  sowing  them  broadcast. 

But  Claire  had  long  ago  learned  that  the  security 
of  her  reign  depended  upon  an  occasional  open  proof 
of  how  she  herself  trusted  its  power.  She  had  guessed 
the  peril  of  continuing  monotonously  clement.  To 
talk  with  Thurston  now  interested  her  more  than 
any  other  conversational  project.  It  was  not  long 
before  she  had  slipped  her  hand  into  his  arm,  and 
was  saying,  as  they  moved  through  the  crowd :  — 

u  If  you  care  to  go  into  the  conservatory,  we  shall 
find  it  much  pleasanter  there,  I  think." 

The  house  was  one  of  those  new  and  majestic 
structures  near  the  Park.  It  occupied  a  corner, 
sweeping  far  backward  from  Fifth  Avenue  into  an 
adjacent  street.  It  had  an  almost  imperial  ampli 
tude,  and  was  a  building  in  which  no  lordly  or  pleas 
urable  detail  seemed  to  have  beeii  overlooked.  The 


336  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

conservatory,  whose  spacious  interior  wooed  through 
breadths  of  glass  its  kindest  warmth  from  the  churl 
ish  winter  sunshine,  was  of  refreshing  temperature 
after  the  heated  rooms  beyond,  while  its  masses  of 
leafing  or  blooming  plants  loaded  the  air  with  de 
lightful  odors. 

A  few  people  were  strolling  about  the  cool  courts, 
as  Claire  and  Thurston  now  entered  them.  The  en 
tertainment  of  to-day  was  a  kind  of  house-warming; 
the  Vanvelsors,  in  current  metropolitan  phrase,  were 
old  people,  but  their  present  mansion  was  new  in  a 
decisive  sense  ;  they  had  migrated  hither  from  a  resi 
dence  in  Bond  Street,  where  they  had  dwelt  for  forty 
years  or  more.  The  push  of  the  younger  generation, 
left  with  inherited  millions,  had  thus  architecturally 
asserted  itself.  Few  of  their  guests  knew  the  ways 
of  their  changed  and  palatial  home.  But  Claire 
knew  them  ;  she  had  dined  in  this  imposing  abode 
not  less  than  a  fortnight  ago.  There  were  many 
bearers  of  precious  Dutch  names  who  had  known  the 
Vanvelsors  for  many  decades ;  but  Claire  had  been 
preferred  to  hosts  of  these  nice-lineaged  legitimists. 
She  was  the  fashion  ;  other  people  were  paying  hom 
age  to  her  ;  the  younger  Vanvelsors  liked  everything 
that  was  the  fashion  ;  they  had  paid  homage,  too. 

"  We  can  find  a  seat,"  Claire  said  to  her  compan 
ion  ;  "  the  place  is  not  full,  as  you  see  ;  we  might 
sit  yonder,  in  those  two  vacant  chairs  —  that  is,  if 
you  care  to  sit ;  I  do  ;  I  am  tired." 

It  was  not  until  they  were  both  seated,  with  glossy 
tropical  leaves  touching  their  heads,  that  Thurston 
answered  :  — 

"  You  say  you  are  tired.  That  might  mean  a  little 
or  a  great  deal.  Which  does  it  mean  ?  " 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN,  337 

Claire  responded  with  a  question,  looking  at  him 
fixedly. 

"  Why  did  you  write  me  that  letter  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Did  it  offend  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No  and  yes.  You  might  not  have  reproached 
me  until  you  knew  more  of  the  real  truth." 

Tlmrston  stroked  his  gray  mustache.  "  I  think 
I  knew  all  the  truth,"  he  said.  "  I  know  it  now,  at 
least." 

"  Your  sister  has  told  you,"  Claire  retorted,  with 
speed. 

"  Yes  and  no,"  he  responded,  not  mocking  her  own 
recent  words,  yet  leaving  a  distinct  impression  that 
he  had  half  repeated  them.  "  You  forget  that  I  have 
seen  you  reigning  on  your  new  throne." 

"  Let  us  be  candid,"  said  Claire.  "  Your  note  was 
almost  a  sneer." 

He  slowly  shook  his  head.     "  It  was  a  regret." 

"  You  think  I  might  have  done  greater  things." 

"  I  think  you  might  have  done  better  things." 

"You  admit  that  I  have  achieved  success?  " 

"  A  marvelous  success.  It  shows  your  extraordi 
nary  gifts.  The  town,  in  a  certain  way,  is  ringing 
with  your  name.  If  an  ordinary  woman  had  gained 
your  place  she  would  have  found  in  it  a  splendid 
gratification.  She  would  have  been  amply,  perfectly 
satisfied." 

"You  mean  that  I  am  not  satisfied.  Pray  allow 
it.  Your  tones  and  your  look  both  show  it  me." 

Tlmrston  smiled,  transiently  and  sadly.  "  I  mean 
that  you  are  miserable,"  he  said. 

Claire  bit  her  lip,  and  slightly  drooped  her  head. 
"  You  have  no  cause  to  tell  me  that." 

He  leaned  closer  to  her.  "  I  do  tell  you.  It  19 
23 


338  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

true.  I  saw  it  in  your  face  when  I  first  looked  at 
you.  There  is  a  change.  I  can't  define  it,  but  it 
exists.  You  are  more  beautiful  than  when  I  saw  you 
last.  You  have  an  air  of  ease,  dignity,  command. 
But  you  express  a  kind  of  superb  weariness,  and  yet 
occasional  flashes  of  excitement  are  in  your  talk  and 
demeanor.  You  see,  I  have  watched  you  from  a  dis 
tance  ;  I  have  my  opinions." 

"  Yes,  you  have  your  opinions,"  said  Claire,  lifting 
her  head  and  directly  regarding  him.  "  That  is  very 
plain." 

"It  all  makes  an  exquisite  picture,"  Thurston 
continued.  "  I  have  seen  the  world,  as  you  know. 
I  have  seen  many  beautiful  women.  Your  person 
ality,  as  I  now  encounter  it,  is  an  absolute  astonish 
ment  to  me.  I  don't  know  where,  in  these  fe\v 
months,  you  acquired  your  repose,  your  serenity, 
your  magnificence,  your  air.  Do  you  remember 
what  I  told  you  of  the  restless  American  type  that 
you  represent  ?  I  knew  you  would  strive  to  rise  ;  it 
was  in  you  ;  you  pushed  to  the  front,  as  I  was  sure 
you  would  do.  But  I  had  no  prescience  of  this 
mighty  accomplishment." 

"  You  are  sneering  at  me,  as  your  note  sneered," 
said  Claire,  looking  at  him  steadily.  "  Acknowledge 
it.  I  perceive  it  with  great  accuracy.  I  somehow 
cannot  answer  you  as  I  would  answer  another.  You 
warned  me  months  ago.  You  knew  what  I  desired, 
and  told  me  of  the  danger  that  lay  in  my  path.  I 
recollect  all  that  you  wanted  me  to  try  and  be.  Per 
haps  I  ii'ould  have  tried,  under  differing  conditions." 

She  paused,  and  Thurston  instantly  said,  "  As  my 
•wife  you  would  have  tried  —  and  succeeded." 

"Perhaps,"  she  answered,  very  low  of  tone,  not 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  339 

meeting  his  look.  "But  all  that  is  past.  Don't  pull 
corpses  out  of  graves." 

"  My  love  for  you  is  living,"  ho  said  to  her.  There 
was  no  touch  of  passion  in  his  voice ;  there  was  only 
a  mournful  respect.  "I  don't  think  I  am  wrong  to 
speak  of  it  now.  There  's  a  sanctity  and  chastity 
about  the  feeling  I  bear  for  you  which  the  fact  of 
your  being  a  wife  does  not  affect.  I  want  to  know 
the  man  whom  you  have  married  ;  I  am  curious  to 
meet  him  and  know  him  well.  He  has  a  large  pub 
licity,  as  you  are  aware.  They  have  heard  of  him  in 
Europe." 

"  I  understand  the  question  you  wish  to  put  yet  do 
not,"  Claire  said,  at  this  point.  "  You  lead  up  to  it 
very  adroitly  ;  I  might  play  the  r61e  of  ignorant  in 
nocence,  if  I  chose.  But  I  do  not  choose.  You  want 
to  ask  me  whether  I  loved  the  man  I  married." 

Thurston  again  stroked  his  mustache,  for  a  mo 
ment.  "  Yes,"  he  presently  said,  "  I  should  like  to 
know  that." 

A  silence  now  ensued  between  them.  Claire  broke 
it.  "  He  loved  me,"  she  said. 

"  Which  means  that  you  did  not  care  for  him?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  cared  very  much.  It  was  no  worldly 
sale  of  in y self.  He  was  not  even  rich  when  I  mar- 
vied  him.  He  attracted  me  —  in  a  manner  charmed 
me.  I  felt  that  I  should -never  meet  another  man 
who  would  attract  and  charm  me  more.  Do  you 
understand  ?  " 

"  Thoroughly.  .  .  „  Since  then  you  have  met 
Stuart  Goldwin.  I  know  him  well.  He  is  a  man  of 
exceptional  fascination.  They  tell  me  that  he  is 
your  slave." 

"  Do  they  ?  "  said  Claire,  coloring  under  this  rapid 


340  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

attack  of  candor.  "  Well,  if  lie  is  my  slave  —  which 
I,  of  course,  deny  —  then  I  am  not  his.  They  did 
not  tell  you  that,  I  am  sure.  They  did  not  even 
hint  it." 

*'  No.  You  have  escaped  the  least  breath  of  scan 
dal." 

"  Be  sure  that  I  have.  And  I  shall  continue  to 
escape  it.  I  recollect  that  you  once  declared  I  was 
cold,  and  that  my  coldness  would  prove  a  safeguard. 
'  It  is  very  protective  to  a  woman,'  you  said." 

"  Quote  me  in  full  or  not  at  all,"  he  corrected,  with 
a  grim  pleasantry.  "  I  said  that  it  is  very  protec 
tive  to  a  woman  —  while  it  lasts." 

"  True,"  returned  Claire.  "  And  it  has  lasted.  I 
prophesied  that  it  would  last,  and  I  was  right.  .  .  . 
By  the  way,  from  whom  have  you  learned  all  these 
important  items  ?  Perhaps  from  your  sister.  She  is 
not  my  friend." 

Thurston  started  a  little.  "  She  is  not  your 
enemy  ? "  he  said,  putting  the  words  as  a  distinct 
question. 

"  I  hope  not.  But  I  am  by  no  means  sure.  Thus 
far  she  has  held  herself  aloof  from  me.  She  has  not 
openly  opposed  me,  but  she  has  behaved  with  telling 
reserve.  Everybody  else  has  paid  me  tribute,  so  to 
speak.  No,  I  am  wrong.  There  is  one  other  woman 
—  her  cousin,  Mrs.  Lee." 

"  Of  course  you  know  why  poor  Sylvia  would  be 
your  foe.  She  is  madly  in  love  writh  Goldwin ;  she 
has  been  for  years.  You  must  have  cost  her  dire 
pangs." 

Claire  chose  to  ignore  this  last  statement.  "I 
think  your  sister  dislikes  me  from  pride,"  she  said. 
"  I  mean  pride  of  family."  Here  she  paused  for  a 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  341 

moment,  and  seemed  almost  bashfully  reluctant  to 
proceed.  But  her  hesitation  had  in  it  a  gentle,  un 
assuming  modesty  ;  it  sprang  wholly  from  unwilling 
ness  to  touch  on  a  subject  which  she  knew  that  only 
the  most  delicate  tact  should  deal  with,  if  to  deal 
with  it  at  all  were  not  folly  and  rashness.  "  Your 
sister  found  out,"  she  softly  continued,  "  that  you 
had  liked  me  enough  to  ask  me  to  be  your  wife. 
Heaven  knows,  Beverley  Thurston,  that  I  did  not 
tell  her  !  " 

Thurston  looked  very  grave.  "  I  told  her,"  he 
said.  "  Or  rather,  she  drew  it  from  me.  I  was  fool 
ish  to  let  her.  Cornelia  is  so  clever.  .  .  .  Well,"  he 
suddenly  went  on,  with  an  unusual  show  of  animation, 
"  do  you  mean  that  she  accused  you  of  having  re 
jected  me  ?  " 

"  She  did  not  put  it  in  the  form  of  an  accusation. 
She  stated  it.  Wait ;  I  will  tell  you  more ;  I  will 
tell  when,  where,  and  how  it  all  happened." 

Claire  did  so.  He  listened  with  deep  attention. 
She  narrated  the  whole  episode  of  her  well-remem 
bered  conversation  with  his  sister  in  the  dining-room 
at  the  Coney  Island  hotel. 

"  Ah,  what  a  woman  that  sister  of  mine  is !  "  he 
exclaimed,  in  his  subdued  way,  as  Claire  finished. 
"  I  must  talk  with  her.  I  dine  there  to-night.  I 
will  find  out  if  this  knowledge  has  been  at  the  root 
of  her  late  behavior." 

Claire  laid  her  gloved  hand  lightly  on  his  sleeve. 
"  I  think  it  best  to  say  nothing.  I  feel  that  you  are 
my  friend  —  always  my  friend.  As  such  you  will 
more  discreetly  let  matters  rest  where  they  are." 

"  Let  matters  rest  where  they  are?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes."     Her  face  broke  into  a  smile  as  she  spoke 


342  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

the  next  words.  "  Mrs.  Van  Horn  —  the  great  Mrs. 
Van  Horn  —  has  withdrawn  her  disapprobation.  The 
day  after  to-morrow  she  and  Mrs.  Lee  lunch  with  me. 
It  is  a  ladies'  lunch.  You  have  no  idea  how  mon 
strously  important  an  event  her  attendance  is  to  be. 
It  is  my  crowning  glory.  After  that  I  shall  have  no 
more  worlds  to  conquer.  She  is  actually  coming ;  I 
have  it  in  her  own  graceful  handwriting.  Frankly, 
I  am  quite  serious.  If  you  had  followed  affairs,  if 
you  had  n't  been  off  in  Europe  for  months,  you  would 
understand  the  momentous  nature  of  your  sister's  ac 
ceptance." 

Claire  rose  as  she  ended  her  last  sentence.  The 
conservatory  was  quite  empty  of  guests ;  the  waning 
winter  sunlight  told  of  the  hour  for  departure.  "  It 
is  time  to  go,"  she  now  continued.  "  Remember, 
whenever  you  come  to  me  you  will  be  welcome.  I 
shall  be  at  the  opera  to-night.  Drop  into  my  box  if 
you  get  away  from  your  sister's  dinner  before  ten, 
and  feel  like  hearing  some  music." 

Thurston  replied  that  he  would  certainly  do  so. 
But,  as  it  happened,  he  partially  failed  to  keep  his 
promise.  Mrs.  Van  Horn's  dinner  was  attended  by 
several  guests.  He  wanted  to  talk  with  his  sister, 
and  it  was  somewhat  late  before  he  found  the  desired 
opportunity. 

"Did  you  enjoy  it,  Beverley?"  said  his  hostess,  re 
ferring  to  the  dinner.  They  were  in  the  front  draw 
ing-room  together.  Thurston  had  seated  himself  near 
the  fire-place,  in  a  big  chair  of  gilded  basket-work 
with  soft  plush  cushions.  He  was  playing  with  a 
small  locket  at  his  waistcoat,  and  his  look  did  not 
lift  itself  from  the  bauble  as  Mrs.  Van  Horn  spoke. 
She  carae  near  his  chair  and  stood  at  his  side  for  a 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  343 

moment.  She  had  been  giving  her  servants  a  few 
orders  relative  to  the  morrow.  She  looked  very  well 
that  evening.  The  color  of  her  gown  was  a  sort  of 
tea-rose  pink,  and  she  wore  a  collar  of  large  pearls 
about  her  throat,  and  ornaments  of  pearls  in  her 
blonde  hair.  While  her  brother  was  answering,  she 
dropped  in  a  chair  quite  near  his  own. 

"  I  thought  it  about  as  successful  as  your  dinners 
always  are,"  he  said.  "  Everything  went  off  to  per 
fection,  of  course.  .  .  .  No,  I  forget ;  there  was  one 
drawback.  A  serious  one." 

"  What  was  it  ?  " 

"  Sylvia  Lee." 

u  You  never  could  endure  Sylvia,"  said  Mrs.  Van 
Horn,  in  her  grand,  cool,  suave  way. 

"  I  think  her  abominable,"  replied  Thurston. 
"  Her  affectations  irritate  and  depress  me.  They 
appear  to  grow  with  age,  too.  She  behaved  more 
like  a  contortionist  than  ever,  to-night.  But  it  is  not 
only  the  wretched,  sensational  bad  taste  of  her  poses 
and  costumes.  It  is  a  conviction  that  she  is  as  treach 
erous  as  the  serpent  she  resembles.  And  then  her 
religious  attitudinizing  .  .  .  has  she  got  over  that 
yet?  I  suppose  not." 

Mrs.  Van  Horn,  who  would  sharply  have  resented 
these  biting  comments  if  any  lips  but  her  brother's 
had  delivered  them,  now  answered  with  only  a  faint 
touch  of  petulance.  "  You  will  never  believe  any 
good  of  Sylvia,  so  it  is  useless  to  tell  you  how  unjust 
I  consider  your  opinions.  But  she  is  more  passion 
ately  absorbed  in  charities  and  religious  devotion 
than  ever  before.  If  you  could  see  some  of  the  peo 
ple  whom  she  goes  among,  and  whom  she  has  con 
stantly  visiting  her  in  her  own  house,  you  would  be 


344  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

forced  to  grant  that  the  shallow  hypocrisy  with 
which  you  charge  her  is  a  most  sincere  and  active 
almsgiving." 

"  Say  notorious,  too.  She  's  a  Pharisee  to  the  tips 
of  her  fingers.  I  should  like  to  know  of  one  good 
deed  that  she  has  ever  performed  in  secret.  She 
parades  her  piety  and  her  benevolence  just  as  she 
does  her  newest  fantasies  in  dressmaking.  She  thinks 
them  picturesque.  She  would  rather  die  than  not  be 
picturesque,  and  I  believe  that  when  she  does  die  she 
will  make  some  ante-mortem  arrangements  about  an 
abnormal  coffin.  It 's  a  marvel  to  me  that  Stuart 
Goldwin  should  have  put  up  with  her  nonsense  as 
long  as  he  did.  .  .  .  By  the  way,  how  does  she  stand 
his  desertion  ?  " 

"  Has  he  deserted  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  come,  now,  Cornelia,  you  know  quite  well 
that  he  has."  Thurston  was  looking  directly  at  his 
sister  for  the  first  time  since  their  interview  had  be' 
gun. 

Mrs.  Van  Horn  gave  a  light,  soft  laugh. 

"  You  mean  for  Mrs.  Hollister,  Beverley  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do." 

"  I  see  that  you  have  picked  up  some  precious  bits 
of  gossip  since  you  got  back."  He  was  watching  her 
very  closely,  and  perceived,  knowing  her  as  scarcely 
any  one  else  knew  her,  that  a  severe  annoyance  dwelt 
beneath  those  last  words.  She  slightly  tossed  her 
delicate  head.  "  You  are  so  relentless  with  poor 
Sylvia  that  I  naturally  don't  want  to  feed  the  fuel 
of  your  disapprobation.  Well,  then,  let  me  admit 
that  Goldwin  is  devoted  to  your  former  friend." 

"  Say  my  present  friend,  if  you  please,  Cornelia." 

He  saw  a  little  gleam,  like  that  of  lit  steel,  creep 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  345 

into  her  pale-blue  eyes.  "  Oh,  then  you  still  call  her 
that?" 

"  Most  certainly.  Should  I  withdraw  my  friend 
ship  because  she  refused  to  marry  me  when  I  was 
old  enough  to  be  her  father  ?  On  the  contrary,  I 
am  liberal  enough  to  applaud  her  good  sense." 

"  Beverley,"  exclaimed  his  sister,  in  tones  of  harsh 
disgust,  "  how  can  you  show  so  little  self-respect  ?  " 

He  saw  that  she  had  grown  pale  with  anger.  He 
set  his  eyes  upon  her  face  with  a  fresh  intentness  of 
gaze.  He  had  a  distinct  object  in  view,  and  he  was 
determined,  if  possible,  to  reach  it.  He  leaned  much 
closer  toward  her  while  he  said,  in  slow,  deliberative 
tones  :  — 

"  My  self-respect,  or  lack  of  it,  is  quite  my  own 
affair.  Pray  understand  that.  You  never  forgave 
Claire  Twining  for  refusing  me,  Cornelia.  You  need 
not  attempt  to  deceive  me  there.  I  repeat,  you  never 
forgave  her.  Your  pride  would  not  allow  you." 

Her  voice  shook  as  she  answered  him.  She  was 
bitterly  distressed  and  agitated.  He  had  touched  an 
old  wound,  but  one  which  had  not  healed.  She  loved 
him  as  she  had  never  loved  any  other  man.  He  was 
part  of  herself  ;  his  blood  was  hers ;  he  belonged  to 
the  egotism  which  was  her  ruling  quality.  Her 
speech  now  betrayed  neither  wrath  nor  disgust ;  it 
was  full  of  mournful  dismay.  The  times  in  her  life 
had  been  rare  when  her  glacial  composure  had  shown 
such  excessive  disturbance. 

"  I  concede,  Beverley,  that  it  hurt  me  very  deeply 
to  realize  your  humiliation.  It  seemed  to  me  then, 
as  it  seems  to  me  now,  that  a  girl  of  her  class  should 
have  been  glad  to  marry  a  man  of  your  place  and 
name.  What  was  she  ?  And  what  were  and  are 
you?" 


346  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  Pshaw  !  I  was  and  am  an  elderly,  faded  old  fel 
low." 

Mrs.  Van  Horn  rose  from  her  chair.  She  was  visi 
bly  trembling.  "  You  could  have  given  that  adven 
turess  a  position  far  more  stable  than  she  holds  now, 
as  the  wife  of  a  lucky  stock-gambler  !  " 

Thurston  remained  seated.  "  You  call  her  an  ad 
venturess,"  he  said,  "and  yet  you  visit  her  —  you 
put  her  on  a  social  equality  with  yourself." 

During  the  vigilant  scrutiny  with  which  he  accom 
panied  these  words,  Mrs.  Van  Horn's  brother  decided 
that  in  all  his  experience  of  her  he  had  never  seen 
her  show  such  perturbation  as  now. 

"  People  acknowledge  her,"  she  said,  a  little 
hoarsely.  "  I  have  never  been  to  her  entertain 
ments.  I  have  never  accepted  her,  so  to  speak.  If 
you  inquire,  you  will  find  this  to  be  true.  It  is  cur 
rent  talk,  my  reserve,  my  disapproval." 

He  shot  his  answer  with  quiet  speed,  meaning  that 
it  should  hit  and  tell.  "  You  are  going  to  the  lunch 
that  she  gives  on  Friday.  I  happen  to  be  certain  of 
this  —  unless  you  have  had  the  wanton  rudeness  to 
write  her  that  you  would  go,  while  meaning  to  re 
main  away."  He  rose  as  he  spoke  the  last  word. 
Brother  and  sister  faced  each  other.  There  was  a 
tranquil  challenge  in  Thurston's  full  and  steady  gaze. 

She  recoiled  a  little.  "I  —  well,  yes  —  I  did  in 
tend  to  go,"  she  replied,  below  her  breath,  and  actu 
ally  stammering. 

"  What  is  your  reason  for  going,"  he  questioned, 
"if  you  despise  and  dislike  her  so?" 

She  threw  back  her  head  ;  her  self-possession  had 
returned,  and  with  it  a  stately  indignation. 

"  You  are  insolent,"  she  said.. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  347 

Tliurston  broke  into  a  hard  laugh. 

"  Yes,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  am  insolent  to  the  great 
lady  because  I  detect  her  on  the  verge  of  some  petty 
revenge  !  Oh,  I  know  you  too  well,  my  dear  sister," 
he  went  on,  with  stern  irony.  "You  can't  rebuff  me 
in  that  way.  There  is  something  behind  this  fine 
condescension.  Sylvia  Lee  and  you  have  been  put 
ting  your  heads  together.  Your  revenge  and  her 
jealousy  will  make  a  rather  dangerous  alliance.  You 
are  both  going  to  the  lunch.  You  are  both  employ 
ing  a  new  line  of  tactics.  What  does  it  mean  ?  I 
demand  to  know.  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

He  was  very  impressive,  yet  his  voice  was  hardly 
raised  above  that  of  ordinary  speech.  She  had  al 
ways  admired  bis  gravity  and  calm  ;  he  had  been  for 
years  her  ideal  and  model  gentleman  ;  she  hated  ex 
citement  of  any  sort,  and  to  see  it  in  him  gave  her  a 
positive  feeling  of  awe. 

"  Beverley,"  she  murmured,  half  brokenly,  "  re 
member  that  if  I  had  any  thought  of  punishment  to 
ward  the  woman  who  trifled  with  you  and  humbled 
you,  it  has  been  because  I  am  your  sister  —  because 
I  was  fond  of  you  —  because  "... 

He  interrupted  her  with  a  quick,  waving  gesture 
of  the  hand.  "  You  talk  insanely,"  he  said.  "  She 
neither  trifled  with  me  nor  humbled  me.  I  was  a 
fool  even  to  tell  you  how  sensibly  she  acted.  What 
you  call  your  fondness  is  nothing  but  your  miserable 
pride.  I  see  clearly  that  you  have  some  detestable 
plan.  Do  you  refuse  to  tell  me  what  it  is  ?  —  me, 
who  have  the  right  to  learn  it !  " 

Every  trace  of  color  had  left  her  cheeks,  and  she 
was  biting  her  lips.  There  was  very  little  of  the 
great  lady  remaining  in  her  inien  or  visage,  now. 


348  ^1A7  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  You  have  twice  spoken  of  your  right,"  she  fal 
tered.  "  On  what  is  such  a  right  based?  How  can 
yon  possibly  possess  it  ?  You  are  nothing  to  her. 
You  are  neither  her  husband  nor  "  — 

"  I  am  her  lover,"  he  broke  in.  "  I  am  her  lover, 
reverent,  devout,  loyal,  and  shall  be  while  we  both 
live  !  She  is  the  most  charming  woman  I  have  ever 
met.  I  met  her  too  late,  or  she  would  be  my  wife 
now.  It  was  not  her  fault  that  she  refused  me.  She 
is  not  a  bit  to  blame.  Good  Heavens  !  have  I  the 
monstrous  arrogance  to  assume  that  she  should  have 
married  an  old  fossil  like  myself  because  I  was  of  a 
little  importance  in  the  world?  No,  Cornelia,  that 
preposterous  assumption  belongs  to  you.  It  is  just 
like  you.  And  you  call  it  love  —  sisterly  love.  1 
call  it  the  very  apex  of  intolerable  pride.  But  ad 
mit  for  the  moment  that  it  is  I  and  not  yourself 
whom  you  care  for.  Will  you  tell  me,  on  that  ac 
count,  what  it  is  you  mean  or  meant  to  do  ?  " 

Before  he  had  finished,  Mrs.  Van  Horn  had  sunk 
into  a  chair  and  covered  her  face  with  both  hands. 
Her  sobs  presently  sounded,  violent  and  rapid.  In 
these  brief  seconds  she  was  shedding  more  tears  than 
had  left  her  cold  eyes  for  many  years  past. 

"  I  mean  to  do  nothing  —  nothing  !  "  she  answered, 
with  a  gasp  almost  like  that  which  leaves  us  when  in 
straits  for  breath. 

"  Do  you  give  me  your  sacred  promise,"  he  said, 
"  that  this  is  true  ?  " 

The  words  appeared  to  horrify  her.  She  looked 
at  him  with  streaming  eyes,  while  a  positive  shudder 
shook  her  frame. 

"  Oh,  Beverley,  what  degradation  this  seems  to 
me!  Degradation  of  yourself  !  You  may  call  me  as 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  349 

proud  as  you  choose.  It  is  no  insult.  It  is  a  com 
pliment,  even.  I  am  proud  of  being  proud.  I  had 
never  given  up  hope  that  you  would  marry  some 
woman  of  good  birth,  good  antecedents,  your  equal 
and  mine  —  young  enough,  too,  to  bear  you  children. 
I  am  childless,  myself  —  how  I  would  have  loved 
your  children  !  Their  own  mother  would  not  have 
loved  them  more.  Every  penny  of  my  large  fortune 
should  have  gone  to  them.  This  has  been  my  dream 
for  years  past,  and  now  you  shatter  it  by  telling  me 
that  an  upstart,  a  parvenu,  a  nobody  from  nowhere, 
holds  you  ensnared  beyond  escape  !  " 

Tlmrston  was  not  at  all  touched.  This  outburst, 
so  uncharacteristic  and  so  unexpected,  did  not  bear 
for  him  a  grain  of  pathos.  He  saw  behind  it  nothing 
save  an  implacable  selfishness  that  chose  to  misname 
itself  affection.  The  ambition  of  Claire  saddened 
him  to  contemplate  ;  it  had  so  rich  a  potentiality  for 
its  background.  He  was  forever  seeing  the  true  and 
wise  woman  that  she  might  have  been.  Even  the 
nettles  in  her  soil  flourished  with  a  certain  beauty  of 
their  own,  proving  its  fertile  resources  if  more  whole 
some  growths  had  taken  root  there.  But  in  Cornelia 
Van  Horn's  nature  all  was  barren  and  arid.  The 
very  genuineness  of  her  present  grief  was  its  condem 
nation.  Her  tears  were  as  chilly  to  him  as  the  light 
of  her  bravest  diamonds  ;  they  had  something  of  the 
same  hard  sparkle  ;  she  wept  them  only  from  her 
brain,  as  it  were  ;  her  heart  did  not  know  that  she 
was  shedding  them. 

"  The  bitter  epithets  which  you  apply  to  my  en- 
snarer,"  he  said,  with  a  momentary  curve  of  the  lips 
too  austere  to  be  termed  a  smile,  "  make  me  the 
more  suspicious  that  you  harbor  against  her  designs 


350  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

of  practical  spite.  I  want  your  promise  that  you  will 
refrain  from  the  least  active  injury  —  that  you  will 
never  use  the  great  social  power  you  possess,  either 
by  speech  or  deed,  to  her  disadvantage.  Do  you  givo 
me  this  promise,  or  do  you  refuse  it?  If  the  latter, 
everything  is  at  an  end  between  us.  The  monetary 
trusts  yon  have  consigned  to  me  shall  be  at  once 
transferred  to  whatever  lawyer  you  may  appoint  as 
their  recipient,  and  from  to-night  henceforward  we 
meet  as  total  strangers." 

"  A  quarrel  between  you  and  me,  Beverley  !  "  said 
his  sister,  trying  to  choke  back  her  sobs,  and  rising 
with  a  cobweb  handkerchief  pressed  in  fluttered  al 
ternation  to  either  humid  eye.  "  A  family  quarrel ! 
And  I  have  been  so  guarded  —  so  careful  that  the 
world  should  hold  us  and  our  name  in  perfect  esteem  ! 
—  Oh,  it  is  horrible  !  " 

"  I  did  not  infer  that  it  would  be  pleasant,"  he  an 
swered.  "  You  yourself  have  power  to  avert  or  bring 
it  about.  All  remains  with  yourself." 

"I  —  I  'must  make  you  a  promise,"  she  retorted, 
in  what  would  have  been,  if  louder,  a  peevish  wail, 
"just  as  though  I  had  really  intended  some  —  some 
gross,  revengeful  act  !  You  —  you  are  ungentle- 
manly  to  impose  such  a  condition  !  You  —  you  are 
out  of  your  senses  !  That  creature  has  bewitched 
yon  !  " 

He  saw  her  eye,  tearful  though  it  was,  quail  be 
fore  his  own  narrowed  and  penetrating  look.  He 
felt  his  suspicion  strengthen  within  him. 

"  I  do  impose  the  condition,"  he  said,  perhaps  more 
determinedly  than  he  had  yet  spoken.  "  I  do  exact 
the  promise.  Now  decide,  Cornelia.  There  is  no 
hard  threat  on  my  part,  remember,  YOU  don't  like 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  351 

the  idea  of  an  open  rupture  with  me,  you  don't  think 
it  would  be  respectable ;  it  would  make  a  little  mark 
on  your  ermine — a  defaut  de  la  cuirasse,  so  to 
speak.  But  your  beloved  world  would  possibly  side 
with  you  and  against  me  ;  you  would  not  lose  a  sup 
porter  ;  you  would  still  remain  quite  the  grand  per 
sonage  you  are.  Only,  I  should  never  darken  your 
doors  again  ;  that  is  all.  Come,  now,  be  good  enough 
to  decide." 

She  sank  into  her  seat  once  more ;  her  eyes  had 
drooped  themselves  ;  the  tears  were  standing  on  her 
pale  cheeks.  "  I  did  not  know  you  had  it  in  you  to 
be  so  cruel,"  she  said,  uttering  the  words  with  appar 
ent  difficulty. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  always  knew  that  you  had  it  in 
you,"  he  returned.  u  Come,  if  you  please.  .  .  . 
Your  answer." 

"  You  —  you  mean  my  promise  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Your  faithful  and  solemn  promise.  We 
need  not  go  over  its  substance  again.  If  you  break 
it  after  giving  it  I  shall  not  reproach  you  ;  I  shall 
simply  act.  You  understand  how  ;  I  have  told  you." 

She  was  silent  for  some  time.  She  had  got  her 
handkerchief  so  twisted  between  her  fingers  that  they 
threatened  to  tear  its  frail  fabric. 

Without  raising  her  eyes,  and  in  a  voice  that  was 
very  sombre  but  had  lost  all  trace  of  tremor,  she  at 
length  murmured  :  — 

"  Well,  I  promise  faithfully.  I  will  do  nothing  — 
say  nothing.  My  conduct  shall  be  absolutely  neutral 
—  null.  Are  you  satisfied?  " 

"  Entirely,"  he  said. 

lie  at  once  left  her.  II"  re-ached  the  opera  just  as 
it  was  ending.  Clahv.  iu  the  company  of  two  ladies 


352  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

and  two  gentlemen,  and  attended  by  Gold  win,  wns 
leaving  her  box  when  he  contrived  to  find  her.  Hoi- 
lister  had  purchased  one  of  the  larger  proscenium 
boxes  some  time  ago;  he  had  given  a  great  price  for 
it  to  an  owner  who  could  not  resist  the  princely  terms 
offered. 

"  You  are  very  late,"  Claire  said,  giving  him  her 
hand,  while  Goldwin,  standing  behind  her,  dropped  a 
great  fur-lined  clonk  over  her  shoulders,  and  hid  the 
regal  costliness  of  her  dress,  with  its  lacos,  flowers, 
and  jewels.  "  Have  you  been  dining  with  your  sister 
all  this  time,  or  were  you  here  for  the  last  act,  but 
talking  with  older  friends  elsewhere?  " 

"  Xo,"  replied  Thurston,  who  had  already  ex 
changed  a  nod  of  greeting  with  Goldwin.  He  low 
ered  his  voice  so  that  Claire  alone  could  hear  it.  "  I 
arrived  but  a  few  minutes  ago.  I  have  been  talking 
seriously  with  my  sister.  You  were  quite  right.  She 
has  withdrawn  her  disapprobation.  You  have  con 
quered  her,  as  you  conquer  everybody." 

He  saw  the  faint  yet  meaning  flash  that  left  her 
dark-blue  eyes,  and  he  read  clearly,  too,  the  signifi 
cance  of  her  bright  smile,  as  she  said:  — 

"  Ah,  you  reassure  me.  For  I  had  my  doubts ;  I 
confess  it,  now." 

"  So  had  I,"  he  returned.  "  But  they  are  at  rest 
forever,  as  I  want  yours  to  be."  .  .  . 

At  an  early  hour,  the  next  morning,  Mrs.  Van 
Horn  surprised  her  friend  and  kinswoman,  Mrs. 
Icidgeway  Lee,  in  the  latter's  pretty  and  quaint 
boudoir,  that  was  Japanese  enough,  as  regarded  hang 
ings  and  adornments,  to  have  been  the  sacred  retreat 
of  some  almond-eyed  Yeddo  belle. 

Mrs.  Lee  had  had  her  coffee,  and  was  deep  in  one 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN..  353 

of  Zola's  novels  when  her  friend  was  announced.  Her 
coupe  would  appear  at  twelve,  and  take  her  to  a  cer 
tain  small  religious  hospital  of  which  she  was  one  of 
the  must  assiduous  patrons ;  but  she  always  read 
Zola,  or  some  author  of  a  similar  Gallic  intensity, 
while  she  digested  her  coffee. 

She  had  concealed  the  novel,  however,  by  the  time 
that  Mrs.  Van  Horn  had  swept  her  draperies  between 
the  Oriental  jars  and  screens. 

"  I  have  come  to  talk  with  you  about  that  affair 
—  that  plan,  Sylvia,"  said  her  visitor,  dropping  into 
a  chair. 

"  You  mean  .  .  .  to-morrow,  Cornelia  ?  " 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  By  the  way,  have  you  seen  the  morn 
ing  papers?" 

"  I  glanced  over  one  of  them  —  the  '  Herald,'  I 
think.  It  said,  in  the  society  column,  that  I  wore 
magenta  at  the  Charity  Ball  last  night.  As  if  I 
would  disgrace  myself  with  that  hideous  color  !  Tlu-se 
monsters  of  the  newspapers  ought  to  be  suppressed 
in  some  way." 

"  You  did  n't  think  so  when  they  described  your 
flame-colored  plush  gown  so  accurately  last  Tuesday. 
However,  you  deserve  to  be  ridiculed  for  going  to 
those  vulgar  public  balls." 

"  But  this  was  for  charity,  and  "  — 

"  Yes,  I  know.  Don't  let  us  talk  of  it.  If  you  had 
read  the  paper  more  closely  you  would  have  seen  the 
statement,  given  with  a  great  air  of  truth,  that  Her 
bert  Hollister's  millions  are  flowing  away  from  him  at 
a  terrible  rate,  and  that  to-night  may  see  him  almost 
ruined." 

"  How  dreadful !  "  said  Mrs.  Lee,  in  her  slow  way, 
but  noticeably  changing  color. 
23 


354  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Mrs.  Van  Horn  gave  a  high,  hard  laugh.  "  Of 
course  you  are  sorry." 

"•  Sorry  !  "  softly  echoed  Mrs.  Lee,  uncoiling  her 
self  from  one  peculiar  pose  on  the  yellow-and-black 
lounge  where  she  was  seated,  and  gently  writhing 
into  another.  "  Of  course  I  am  sorry,  Cornelia.  Al 
though  you  must  grant  that  she  merits  it.  To  desert 
her  poor,  ignorant,  miserable  mother  !  To  run  away 
and  leave  her  own  flesh  and  blood  in  starvation !  " 
Here  Mrs.  Lee  heaved  an  immense  sigh.  u  Ah, 
Providence  finds  us  all  out,  sooner  or  later !  If  that 
wicked  woman's  sin  is  punished  by  her  husband's 
ruin,  who  shall  say  that  she  has  not  richly  deserved 
it?  But  in  spite  of  this,  Cornelia  dear,  our  stroke  of 
punishment  will  not  be  too  severe.  With  regard  to 
my  own  share  in  our  coming  work,  I  feel  that  I  am 
to  be  merely  the  instrument  —  the  humble  instrument 
—  of  Heavenly  justice  itself  !  " 

"  No  doubt,"  replied  Mrs.  Van  Horn,  with  frigid 
dryness.  "  But  you  must  do  it  all  alone  to-morrow, 
Sylvia.  I  have  come  to  tell  you  so.  I  can  have  no 
part  whatever  in  the  proceeding.  However  it  is  car 
ried  out  —  whether  you  bring  Mrs.  Hollister  face  to 
face  with  her  plebeian  parent  or  no,  I  shall  be  absent. 
It  is  true,  I  accepted  for  the  lunch.  But  I  shall  be 
ill  at  the  last  moment.  I  withdraw  from  the  whole 
ingenious  plot.  I  shan't  see  the  little  coup  de  theatre 
at  all.  I  wish  that  I  could.  You  know  I  have  never 
forgiven  the  refusal  of  Beverley  any  more  than  you 
have  forgiven  .  .  .  well,  something  else,  my  dear  Syl 
via.  But  I  must  remain  aloof ;  it  is  settled  ;  there  is 
no  help  for  it." 

Mrs.  Lee  opened  her  big  black  eyes  very  wide  in 
deed.  "Have  you  lost  your  senses,  Cornelia?"  she 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  355 

queried,  with  her  grotesque,  unfailing  drawl.  "  What ! 
Alter  my  wonderful  meeting  with  Mrs.  Twining  at 
the  hospital  !  After  your  exultant  conclusion  that  we 
had  far  belter  fix  the  stigma  of  ingratitude  and  de 
sertion  upon  her  shameless  daughter  with  as  much 
publicity  as  possible  !  After  our  talks,  our  arrange 
ments,  our  anticipations  !  After  all  this,  you  are  not 
going  to-morrow!  I  don't  understand.  I  am  sure 
that  I  inuzt  be  dreaming!  " 

"  Let  me  explain,  then,"  said  Mrs.  Van  Horn,  with 
a  quiver  in  her  usually  serene  tones  that  was  a  resi 
due  of  last  evening's  dramatic  defeat  and  surrender. 
"For  once  in  my  life,  Sylvia,  I  —  I  have  found  my 
match,  I  have  failed  to  hold  my  own,  I  have  been 
ignominiously  beaten.  And  the  victor  is  my  own 
brother,  Beverley." 

She  went  on  speaking  for  some  time  longer,  with 
no  actual  interruption  on  the  part  of  her  companion, 
though  with  very  decided  signs  of  consternation  and 
disapproval. 

"  Oh,  Cornelia,  it  is  too  bad  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Lee, 
when  the  recital  was  finished.  "  lie  could  n't  have 
meant  that  he  would  cut  his  own  sister  !  What  is 
to  be  done  ?  Well,  I  suppose  it  must  all  be  given 
up.  And  it  would  have  been  such  a  triumph!  And 
she  deserves  it  so  —  running  away  from  her  own 
mother  whom  she  had  always  hated  and  disobeyed! 
We  have  that  poor,  horrid,  common,  but  pitiable 
Mrs.  Twining's  own  word  for  it,  you  know.  And 
she  woultl  have  been  such  a  magnificent  spectre  at 
the  banquet !  She  would  have  risen  up  like  Banquo, 
ill  -  dressed,  haggard,  rheumatic,  pathetic.  Every 
body  would  have  denounced  this  unnatural  daugh 
ter  when  they  saw  the  meeting.  I  can't  realize 


356  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

that  you,  you  could  let  it  all  be  nipped  in  the 
bud!" 

"  It  is  n't  all  nipped  in  the  bud,  Sylvia,"  said  Mrs. 
Van  Horn,  sharply. 

"  But  it  is  !  Why  is  n't  it  ?  You  certainly  don't 
expect  me  to  carry  it  out  alone  ?  " 

Mrs.  V;m  Horn  decisively  nodded.  "  Yes,  Sylvia," 
she  answered,  "  that  is  just  the  point.  I  do  expect 
you  to  carry  it  out  alone.  You  are  clever  enough, 
quite  clever  enough,  and  "...  Here  the  speaker 
paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  crisply,  emphatically 
added  :  "  And  after  all  is  said,  remember  one  thing. 
It  is  this :  You  have  a  much  larger  debt  to  pay  her 
than  I  have." 

A  malign  look  stole  into  Mrs.  Lee's  black  eyes. 
She  was  thinking  of  Stuart  Goldwin.  She  was  think 
ing  of  the  man  whom  she  had  passionately  loved  — 
whom  she  passionately  loved  still. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  Cornelia,"  she  at  length 
replied,  in  her  usual  protracted  and  lingering  style. 
She  had  got  herself,  as  she  spoke,  into  one  of  her 
most  involved  and  tortuous  attitudes  ;  she  had  never 
looked  more  serpentine  than  now. 


XIX. 

CLAIRE  felt,  on  this  same  day,  like  casting  about 
in  her  mind  for  some  pretext  by  which  she  might 
postpone  her  grand  luncheon  on  the  morrow.  She 
had  passed  a  sleepless  night,  having  gone  to  bed  with 
out  seeing  Hollister.  In  the  morning  she  had  avoided 
meeting  him.  She  had  no  comfort  to  administer,  no 
reparation  to  offer.  The  mask  had  been  stripped 
from  her  face ;  the  comedy  had  been  played  to  its 
end.  She  had  a  sense  of  worthlessness,  depravity, 
sin.  At  the  same  time  she  recklessly  told  herself 
that  no  atonement  was  in  her  power.  A  woful  weak 
ness,  which  took  the  form  of  a  woful  strength,  over 
mastered  her  as  the  hours  grew  older.  Her  thirst 
for  new  excitements  deepened  with  her  misery  and 
anxiety.  But  she  sat  in  her  dressing-room  or  paced 
the  floor  till  past  three  in  the  afternoon.  There 
were  numberless  people  whom  she  might  have  visited; 
there  were  several  receptions  that  afternoon  at  which 
her  presence  would  have  been  held  important  by 
their  respective  givers.  Even  the  known  jeopardy  of 
her  husband's  position  would  have  heightened  the 
value  of  her  appearance,  adding  to  her  popularity  the 
spice  of  curiosity  as  well. 

More  than  once  she  said  to  herself :  '  I  will  go  to 
one  of  these  places.  I  will  show  them  how  quietly  I 
bear  the  strain.  If  by  to-morrow  no  crash  has  come, 


358  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

they  will  admire  my  nerve  and  courage.  For  if  I 
once  went,  they  should  never  discover  a  trace  of 
worriment  or  suspense.  I  think  the  fact  of  my  be 
ing  closely  watched  would  even  make  me  talk  better 
and  smile  brighter.  The  wear  and  tear  of  the  whole 
thing  might  make  me  forget  a  little,  too.  And  I 
want  so  to  forget,  if  I  can  !  ' 

But  she  did  not  go.  The  morning  papers  lay  on  a 
near  table.  She  had  read  every  word  that  they  had 
to  tell  her  of  the  fierce  financial  turmoil.  Some  of 
the  stern  figures  they  quoted  made  her  heart  flutter 
with  affright ;  some  of  their  ominous  and  snarling 
editorials  wrought  an  added  discomfort. 

If  Hollister  weathered  the  storm,  she  decided,  all 
would  remain  as  it  had  been  before.  Or,  if  not  pre 
cisely  that,  the  general  outward  effect  would  continue 
quite  the  same.  She  would  shine  among  her  court 
iers  ;  she  would  dazzle  and  rule.  He  would  feel  his 
wound,  now  that  he  knew  the  pitiless  truth  of  her 
indifference,  but  he  would  make  the  engrossing  ven 
tures  of  his  business-life  drown  its  pain  until  this  had 
perhaps  ceased  forever.  They  would  drift  further 
apart  than  they  had  ever  done  in  recent  months,  but 
to  the  eye  of  the  world  there  would  be  no  severance. 
It  was  possible  that  he  would  vex  her  with  no  more 
reproaches.  It  was  probable  that  as  time  passed  he 
would  forget  that  he  had  ever  had  any  reproaches  to 
offer. 

While  Claire's  reflections,  nervous  and  fitful,  took 
by  degrees  some  such  shape  as  this,  she  found  a  des 
perate,  yearning  pleasure  in  the  hope  that  she  might 
still  drink  the  vin  capiteux  of  worldly  success.  She 
almost  felt  like  flinging  herself  on  her  knees  and 
praying  that  the  delicious  cup  might  not  forever  be 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  350 

dashed  from  her  lips.  To  this  stage  had  her  triumphs 
brought  her.  She  was  the  same  woman  who  had 
made  those  resolves  of  abstinence  and  reformation 
which  her  biographer  has  already  duly  chronicled. 
She  was  the  same  woman  whose  conscience  had  smit 
ten  her  with  a  sense  of  higher  and  purer  things  when 
the  farewell  of  Thurston  warned  her  by  such  appall 
ing  remonstrance,  and  when  she  found  herself  con 
fronting  her  father's  placid  tomb  amid  the  solemnities 
of  Greenwood.  And  yet  how  abysmal  was  the  differ 
ence  between  then  and  now!  The  chance  of  radical 
change  in  heart,  aim,  and  ideal  had  then  been  given 
her  ;  but  now  all  thought  of  such  change  woke  only 
a  willful,  imperious  dissent.  Her  vision  turned  upon 
her  own  soul  to-day,  and  showed  her  its  mighty  lapse 
from  grace,  its  supine  and  incapable  droop.  The  de 
basing  spell  had  been  woven  ;  what  counterspell  was 
potent  enough  to  break  it  ?  Occasional  flashes  of  re 
gret  and  aspiration  might  well  assail  her  spirit,  or  of 
recognition  that  she  had  lost  a  high  contentment  in 
gaining  a  low  one.  This  was  natural  enough.  It 
has  been  aptly  put  into  metaphor  that  the  saddest 
place  in  Purgatory  is  that  from  which  the  walls  of 
Paradise  are  visible. 

By  four  o'clock  Hollister  had  not  returned.  But 
Mrs.  Diggs  had  made  her  appearance  instead,  and 
Claire  welcomed  it  as  a  happy  relief  from  the  tor 
ment  of  her  own  thoughts.  "  My  dear,"  said  this 
lady,  "  there  has  been  nothing  so  dreadful  in  Wall 
Street  since  the  crisis  of  the  famed  Black  Friday. 
My  poor  Manhattan  came  home  at  about  three 
o'clock,  utterly  jaded  out.  I  made  him  go  to  bed. 
He  could  scarcely  speak  to  me.  I  asked  him  about 
your  husband's  affairs,  but  he  gave  me  only  mum- 


360  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

bling  answers ;  excitement  had  put  him  into  a  kind 
of  stupor,  don't  you  know?" 

"  Yes,"  assented  Claire,  understanding  the  nature 
of  the  collapse  perfectly.  "  So  he  told  you  nothing 
of  Herbert's  affairs  ?  Nothing  whatever  ?  " 

"  Nothing  that  I  could  really  make  out.  I  should 
be  in  a  wild  state,  and  have  a  feeling  about  the  soles 
of  my  feet  as  if  I  were  already  going  barefoot,  don't 
you  know,  if  I  had  'nt  long  ago  insisted  upon  Man 
hattan's  putting  a  very  large  and  comfortable  sum 
safely  away  in  my  name." 

Claire  thought  of  the  house  that  had  been  assigned 
to  her,  of  her  jewels,  of  her  costly  apparel.  But 
to  remember  these  merely  aggravated  her  distress. 
What  a  meagre  wreck  they  would  leave  from  the 
largess  of  her  past  prosperity  ! 

"I  wouldn't  be  awfully  worried,  if  I  were  you," 
continued  Mrs.  Diggs.  "  If  the  worst  should  come, 
your  husband  will  be  sure  to  save  something  hand 
some.  These  great  speculators  always  do.  Some 
odd  thousands  always  turn  up  after  the  storm  has 
blown  over.  Perhaps  he  will  begin  again,  and  do 
grander  things  than  ever  before." 

"•  That  is  cold  consolation,"  said  Claire,  with  a  bit 
ter  smile. 

"  I  know  it  is  for  you,  Claire,  dear,  who  have  been 
tossing  away  hundreds  to  my  dimes.  I  might  say 
horrid  things,  but  I  won't.  I  might  talk  of  retribu 
tion  for  your  extravagances,  and  all  that.  But  I  so 
detest  the  je  vous  Vavais  lien  dit  style  of  rebuke. 
And  I  don't  want  to  rebuke  you  a  bit.  You  have 
your  faults,  of  course.  But  you  're  always  my  sweet, 
beautiful  Claire.  My  heart  will  ache  for  you  if  any 
thing  frightful  should  happen.  I  say  it  to  your  face, 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  361 

dear,  as  I  would  say  it  behind  your  back,  that  you 
are  the  one  woman  of  all  others  whom  money  per 
fectly  adorns.  You  spent  it  like  a  queen,  and  you 
looked  like  a  queen  while  you  spent  it.  You  remem 
ber  how  I  used  to  gush  over  Cornelia  Van  Horn's 
•grand  manner  ?  It  could  never  hold  a  candle  to 
yours.  I  'm  afraid  I  abused  you  like  a  regular  pick 
pocket  the  other  night.  Oh,  yes,  I  pitched  into  you 
just  as  hard  as  I  could.  But  at  the  same  time  I  was 
thinking  how  well  you  carried  your  worldliness  — 
what  a  kind  of  a  beau  role  you  made  of  it,  don't  you 
know  ?  And  whatever  should  come,  Claire,  always 
recollect  that  I  '11  stick  to  you,  my  dear,  through 
thick  and  thin  !  " 

The  vernacular  turn  taken  by  Mrs.  Diggs  during 
this  eager  outburst  gave  it  a  spontaneity  and  natural 
ness  that  more  than  once  brought  the  mist  to  Claire's 
eyes.  She  felt  the  true  ring  of  friendly  sympathy 
in  every  word  that  was  spoken  ;  the  touches  of  slang 
pleased  her ;  they  were  like  the  angularities  of  the 
lady's  physical  shape,  severe  and  yet  not  ungraceful. 
She  was  sorry  when  her  visitor  rose  to  go,  and  had  a 
sense  of  dreary  loneliness  after  she  had  departed. 

It  would  soon  be  the  hour  for  dinner.  But  she 
could  not  dine.  She  knew  that  the  decorous  but 
ler  who  waited  on  her  would  perceive  her  efforts  to 
choke  down  the  proffered  food.  Perhnps  he  would 
tingle  with  secret  dread  regarding  his  next  wages. 
Pie  read  the  newspapers,  of  course  ;  everybody  read 
them  nowadays  ;  and  her  husband's  impending  ruin 
had  bepn  their  chief  and  hideous  topic. 

As  the  chill  winter  light  in  the  room  turned  blue 
before  it  wholly  died,  she  sat  and  thought  of  how 
many  people  would  be  glad  to  hear  the  very  worst. 


362  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

They  seemed  to  her  a  pitiless  legion.  Then,  as  she 
thought  of  how  many  would  be  soriy,  three  names 
rose  uppermost  in  her  mind  :  Mrs.  Diggs,  Thurston, 
and  Stuart  Goldwin.  Yes,  Goldwin  surely  would 
have  no  exultant  feeling.  He  was  full  of  arts  and 
falsities,  but  he  could  not  fail  to  regret  any  calamity 
that  brought  with  it  her  own  sharp  discomfiture. 

'He  has  lately  been  Herbert's  rival  in  finance,' 
she  told  her  own  thoughts.  '  Circumstance  has  in  a 
manner  pitted  them  against  each  other.  Herbert 
rose  so  quickly.  They  have  not  been  enemies,  but 
they  have  stood  on  opposite  sides  in  not  a  few  mat 
ters  of  speculation.  Still,  I  am  sure  he  will  lament 
the  downfall,  if  it  really  comes.  He  will  do  so  for 
my  sake,  if  for  no  other  reason.  I  should  have  ques 
tioned  him  more  closely  last  night  at  the  opera.  I 
am  sure  he  wanted  me  to  speak  with  more  freedom  of 
the  threatening  disaster.  I  should  have  asked  him  ' — 

And  then  Claire's  distressed  ruminations  were  cut 
short  by  the  quiet  entrance  of  her  husb-ind.  The 
door  of  the  chamber  had  been  ajar.  Ilollister  sim 
ply  pushed  it  a  little  further  open,  and  crossed  the 
threshold. 

The  dusk  had  begun,  but  it  was  still  far  from 
making  his  face  in  any  way  obscure  to  her.  As  she 
looked  at  it,  while  slowly  rising  from  her  chair,  she 
saw  that  it  had  never,  to  her  knowledge,  been  so  wan 
and  worn  as  now.  He  paused  before  her,  and  at 
once  spoke. 

"  Have  you  heard  ?  "  he  said. 

She  felt  herself  grow  cold.     "  What  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  'm  cleaned  out.  Everything  has  gone.  I 
thought  you  might  have  seen  the  evening  papers. 
They  are  full  of  it.  Of  course  they  don't  know  the 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAX.  363 

real  truth.  Some  of  them  say  that  I  have  five  mill 
ions  hidden  away."  He  laughed  here,  and  the  laugh 
was  bleak  though  low.  "  But  I  tell  you  the  plain 
truth,  Claire  —  there's  nothing  left.  The  truth  is 
best ;  don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

He  was  steadily  watching  her,  as  he  thus  spoke, 
and  the  detected  irony  of  his  words  pierced  her  like 
a  knife.  A  wistful  distress  was  in  the  frank  blue  of 
his  eyes  ;  they  seemed  to  reflect  from  her  own  spirit 
the  wrong  that  she  had  done  him. 

"  Yes,  Herbert,"  she  answered,  still  keeping  her 
seat,  "  I  think  that  the  truth  is  always  best." 

A  great  sigh  left  his  lips.  He  put  both  hands  be 
hind  him,  and  began  slowly  pacing  the  floor,  with 
lowered  head.  While  thus  engaged,  he  went  on 
speaking. 

"  I  can't  think  how  I  ever  shot  up  as  I  did.  I 
never  was  a  very  bright  fellow  at  Dartmouth.  I  al 
ways  had  pluck  enough,  but  I  never  showed  any 
great  nerve.  Wall  Street  brought  out  a  new  set  of 
faculties,  somehow.  And  then  everybody  liked  me; 
I  was  popular  ;  that  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it,  I 
suppose  —  that  and  a  wonderful  run  of  luck  at  tho 
start.  And  then  there  was  one  thing  more  —  one 
very  important  thing,  too.  I  see  now  what  a  tre 
mendous  incentive  it  really  was.  I  mean  your  wish 
to  rise  and  rule  people.  If  it  had  n't  been  for  that, 
I  'd  have  let  many  a  big  chance  slip." 

He  paused  now,  standing  close  beside  his  wife's 
chair.  "  I  was  always  weak  where  you  were  con 
cerned,"  he  said,  regarding  her  very  intently,  and 
with  a  cloud  on  his  usually  clear  brow  that  bespoke 
suffering  rather  than  sternness.  "  You  know  that, 
Claire.  I  yielded  always  ;  I  let  you  wind  me  round 


364  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

your  finger  —  I  was  so  fond  of  the  finger.  If  you 
Lad  said,  '  Herbert,  do  this  or  that  folly,'  I  'd  have 
done  it,  and  it  would  n't  have  seemed  half  so  much  a 
folly  because  of  your  loved  command.  Is  not  this 
true?" 

He  came  still  closer  to  her  after  he  had  uttered 
the  last  sentence.  He  was  so  close  that  his  person 
grazed  her  dress. 

Claire  was  very  pale,  and  her  eyes  were  shining. 
"  It  is  perfectly  true,"  she  answered  him. 

Hollister's  tones  instantly  changed.  They  were 
broken,  hoarse,  and  of  fervid  melancholy.  "  Perfectly 
true.  Yes,  you  admit  it.  You  know  that  I  am 
right.  I  gave  you  everything  —  love,  interest,  en 
ergy,  respect,  obedience.  And  what  did  you  give 
me  ?  Your  marriage  -  vows,  Claire  !  —  were  those 
falsehoods  ?  Speak  and  tell  me  !  I  never  thought 
so  till  yesterday.  Good  God,  woman  !  I  never 
thought  about  it  at  all.  You  were  my  wife  ;  you 
were  my  Claire.  You  were  stronger  in  nature  than 
I,  and  I  loved  your  strength.  I  loved  to  have  you 
lead,  and  to  follow  where  you  led.  But  your  love  — 
oh,  I  counted  on  that  as  securely  as  we  count  on  the 
sun  in  heaven  !  And  yesterday  the  truth  burst  on 
me !  It  was  n't  I  that  you  had  cared  for.  It  was 
the  high  place  I  could  put  you  in,  the  dresses  and 
diamonds  I  could  buy  for  you,  the  "  — 

He  suddenly  broke  off.  A  great  excitement  was 
now  in  his  visage,  his  voice,  his  whole  manner. 
Whether  from  pain  or  wrath,  it  seemed  to  her  that 
his  eyes  had  taken  a  much  darker  tint,  and  that  an 
unwonted  spark,  chill  and  keen,  lit  them. 

"  If  it  all  is  true,"  he  went  on,  speaking  much 
more  slowly,  and  like  a  man  who  breathes  hard  with- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  365 

out  openly  showing  it,  "  then  I  thank  God  that  no 
child  has  been  born  of  you  and  me !  " 

She  sat  quite  still.  She  was  utterly  conscience- 
stricken.  From  all  the  facile  vocabulary  of  feminine 
self -excuse  her  bewildered  and  shamed  soul  could 
shape  no  sentence  either  of  propitiation  or  denial. 
At  such  a  time  she  felt  the  infamy,  even  the  farce  of 
lying  to  him.  And  how  could  she  respond  with  any 
sufficiency,  any  glearn  of  comforting  assurance,  unless 
she  did  lie  ? 

"  You  say  that  I  led  you  into  this  disaster,  Her 
bert,"  she  presently  responded,  with  an  effort,  and 
more  than  a  successful  one,  to  steady  her  voice.  "  I 
don't  deny  it,  but  at  the  same  time  remember  that 
my  forethought  provided  for  us  both  in  a  case  of  just 
the  present  sort.  I  have  the  other  house,  you  know. 
Its  sale  will  bring  us  something.  And  then  there 
are  all  my  jewels  —  and  "  — 

His  eyes  flashed  and  his  lip  curled.  "  You  talk  in 
that  business-like  style,"  he  cried,  "  when  I  am  ask 
ing  you  if  you  ever  really  loved  me  !  Is  your  evasion 
an  answer,  Claire  ?  Were  your  marriage-vows  false 
hoods?  " 

His  hand  grasped  her  wrist,  though  not  with  vio 
lence.  She  rose,  unsteadily,  and  shook  the  grasp  off. 

"  Oh,  Herbert,"  she  said,  "  I  never  saw  you  like 
this  before !  Let  us  think  of  what  we  can  do  in  case 
all  is  really  lost." 

He  withdrew  from  her,  breaking  into  a  hollow 
laugh.  He  stared  at  her  with  dilated,  accusing  eyes. 

"  You  don't  dare  tell  me.  But  I  read  it,  as  I  read 
it  yesterday.  .  .  .  What  can  we  do  ?  Ah  !  you  're 
not  the  woman  to  live  on  a  thousand  or  two  a  year. 
You  want  fine  things  to  wear  and  to  eat.  You  want 


366  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

your  jewels,  too  —  don't  sell  them,  for  you  could  n't 
get  along  without  them,  now."  He  kept  silence  for 
a  moment,  and  then  hurried  with  swift  steps  toward 
the  door,  again  pausing.  A  kind  of  madness,  that 
was  born  of  an  agony,  possessed  him  and  visibly 
showed  its  sway.  "  Get  some  one  else  to  put  you 
back  into  luxury,"  he  went  on,  lifting  one  hand  to 
ward  his  throat,  as  though  to  make  the  words  less 
husky  that  were  leaping  from  his  lips.  "  Get  Gold- 
win  to  do  it.  Yes,  Goldwin.  You  've  only  to  nod 
and  he  '11  kneel  to  you  —  as  I  knelt.  Perhaps  he  's 
got  from  you  what  I  never  could  get.  You  know 
what  I  mean  —  I  Ve  told  you." 

He  passed  at  once  from  the  room,  flinging  the  door 
shut  behind  him.  The  room  was  in  dimness  by  this 
time.  Claire  almost  staggered  to  a  lounge,  and  sank 
within  it.  His  wild  insult  had  dizzied  her. 

He  had  not  meant  a  word  of  it.  He  was  tortured 
by  the  thought  that  she  had  never  cared  for  him. 
He  had  used  the  first  fierce  reproach  that  his  sorrow 
and  exasperation  could  hit  upon.  He  went  to  his 
own  apartments,  dressed,  and  then  left  the  house. 
He  forgot  that  he  had  not  dined,  but  remembered 
only  that  there  might  be  some  sort  of  forlorn  finan 
cial  hope  discovered  by  a  certain  assemblage  of  men 
less  deeply  involved  than  himself,  yet  all  sufferers  in 
a  similar  way,  which  would  take  place  privately  that 
same  evening  at  a  popular  hotel  not  far  distant.  All 
recollection  of  having  suggested  an  infidelity  to  Claire 
quite  escaped  from  his  perturbed  and  over-wrought 
brain.  The  piercing  realization  that  she  had  never 
loved  him  still  continued  its  torment.  But  he  failed 
to  recall  that  the  desperate  sarcasm  of  his  mood  had 
ever  hurled  at  her  the  name  of  Goldwin. 


AX  ,4:i//;/7Y<9£7S    WOMAN.  367 

A  knock  at  the  door  of  the  darkened  room  waked 
Claire  from  a  kind  of  stupor.  The  knock  came  from 
her  maid,  and  it  acted  with  decisive  arousing  force. 
Lights  were  soon  lit,  and  dinner,  that  evening,  was 
ordered  to  become  a  canceled  ceremony. 

"  You  may  bring  me  some  bouillon,  Marie,"  Claire 
directed.  "  That,  and  nothing  else." 

She  drank  the  beverage  when  it  was  brought,  and 
changed  her  dress.  The  glass  showed  her  a  pale  but 
tranquil  face. 

'  I  would  have  clung  to  him  if  he  would  have  let 
me,'  incessantly  passed  through  her  thoughts.  'But 
now  he  tells  me  that  another  can  give  me  the  luxury 
that  I  have  lost.  He  is  right.  Goldwin  will  come 
this  evening  ;  I  am  sure  of  it.' 

Goldwin  did  come,  and  she  received  him  with  a 
mien  of  ice.  Underneath  her  coldness  there  was  fire 
enough,  but  she  kept  its  heat  well  hidden. 

"  I  came  to  talk  intimately  with  you,"  he  at  length 
said,  "  and  you  treat  me  as  if  we  had  once  met,  some 
where,  for  about  ten  minutes." 

The  smouldering  force  of  Claire's  inward  excite 
ment  started  into  flame  at  these  words.  "  I  know 
with  what  intimate  feelings  you  came,"  she  replied, 
meeting  his  soft  glance  with  one  of  cold  opposition. 
"  You  want  to  tell  me  that  you  can  set  Herbert  right 
with  his  creditors." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  slowly,  averting  his  eyes,  "  I 
did  have  that  desire.  Is  there  anything  wrong  about 
it?" 

"Yes.  You  should  not  have  come  to  me.  You 
should  have  gone  to  him." 

"  Why  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Why?"  repeated  Claire,  breaking  into  a  sharp 


368  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

laugh.  A  moment  later  she  tossed  her  head  with  a 
careless  disdain.  "  I  'm  not  going  to  tell  you  why. 
You  know  well  enough.  See  Herbert.  Ask  him  if 
he  will  let  you  help  him." 

"  You  are  very  much  excited." 

"  I  have  good  reason  to  be." 

"  You  mean  this  dreadful  change  in  your  husband's 
affairs?" 

"  Yes,  I  mean  that,  and  I  mean  more.  You 
must  n't  question  me." 

"  Very  well,  I  won't." 

But  he  soon  did,  breaking  the  silence  that  ensued 
between  them  with  gently  harmonious  voice,  and  fix 
ing  on  Claire's  half-averted  face  a  look  that  seemed 
to  brim  with  sympathy. 

"  Would  Hollister  take  my  help  if  I  offered  it  ? 
Does  he  not  dislike  me?  I  believe  so  —  I  am  nearly 
sure  so.  You  tap  the  floor  with  your  foot.  You  are 
miserable,  and  I  understand  your  misery.  So  am  I 
miserable  —  on  your  account.  I  know  all  the  ins 
and  outs  of  your  distress  .  .  .  ah,  do  not  fancy  that  I 
fail  to  do  so.  He  has  said  hard  things  —  undeserved 
things.  He  has  perhaps  mixed  my  name  with  his 
.  .  .  what  shall  I  call  them?  .  .  .  reproaches,  imper 
tinences?  You  have  had  a  quarrel  —  a  quarrel  that 
has  been  wholly  on  his  side.  He  has  accused  you  of 
not  caring  enough  for  him.  It  may  be  that  he  has 
accused  you  of  not  caring'  at  all.  Of  course  he  has 
dilated  on  your  love  for  the  pomp  and  glitter  of 
things.  As  if  he  himself  did  not  love  them  !  As 
if  he  himself  has  not  given  all  of  us  proof  that  he 
loved  them  very  much  !  Well ;  let  that  pass.  You 
are  to  renounce  everything.  You  are  to  dine  on 
humble  fare,  dress  in  plain  clothes,  sink  into  obscur- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  369 

ity.  This  is  what  he  demands.  Or,  if  it  is  not  de 
manded,  it  is  implied.  And  for  what  reason  ?  Be 
cause  he  still  sees  you  are  beautiful,  attractive,  one 
woman  in  ten  thousand,  and  that  having  gambled 
away  every  other  pleasure  in  life  he  can  still  retain 

you." 

Claire  rose  from  the  sofa  on  which  they  were  both 
seated.  She  did  not  look  at  Goldwin  while  she  an 
swered  him.  Her  voice  was  so  low  that  he  just 
caught  her  words  and  no  more. 

"  To  what  does  all  this  tend  ?  Tell  me.  Tell  me 
at  once." 

Goldwin  in  turn  slowly  rose  while  he  responded  : 
"  I  will  tell  you,  if  you  will  tell  me  whether  you  love 
your  husband  well  enough  to  share  poverty  with  him 
after  he  has  insulted  you." 

"  I  did  not  say  that  he  had  insulted  me." 

"  I  infer  it.     Am  I  right  or  wrong  ?  " 

Still  not  looking  at  him,  she  made  an  impatient 
gesture  with  both  hands. 

"  Allowing  you  are  right.     What  then  ?  " 

He  did  not  reply  for  several  minutes.  He  was 
stroking  his  amber  mustache  with  one  white,  well- 
shaped  hand ;  his  eyes  were  now  turned  from  hers, 
hers  from  him. 

"  I  shall  go  abroad  in  a  short  time.  I  shall  go  in 
less  than  a  fortnight,"  he  said. 

It  was  a  most  audacious  thing  to  say,  and  he  knew 
it  thoroughly.  It  was  the  bold  stroke  that  must 
either  annul  his  hopes  completely,  or  feed  them  with  a 
fresh  life. 

Claire  seemed  to  answer  him  only  with  the  edges 
of  her  lips. 

"  How  does  that  concern  me  ?  " 

24 


370  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  In  no  way.  I  did  not  say  it  did.  But  you  might 
choose  to  sail  a  week  or  two  later.  Alone,  of  course. 
It  would  be  Paris,  with  me.  You  have  told  me  that 
you  wanted  very  much  to  see  Paris." 

She  turned  and  faced  him,  then,  more  agitated 
than  angry. 

"  You  speak  of  my  husband  having  insulted  me. 
What  are  you  doing  now  ?  " 

"  I  am  trying  to  save  you." 

"  Good  Heavens  !  from  what  ?  " 

"  From  him.  Listen.  I  did  not  mean  for  you  to 
go  directly  to  Paris.  You  would  travel.  But  at  a 
certain  date  I  could  meet  you  there.  I  could  meet 
you  with  —  well,  with  a  document  of  importance." 

"  Explain.     I  don't  understand  you  at  all." 

"  Suppose  I  put  the  case  in  certain  legal  hands  here. 
Suppose  they  worked  it  up  with  skill  and  shrewdness. 
Suppose  they  gained  it.     Suppose  they  secured  a  di 
vorce  between  you  and  him  on  —  grounds  "... 
.     "Well?    What  grounds ?" 

"  Of  infidelity.  You  know  the  life  he  has  lived. 
Or  rather,  you  don't  know.  He  has  been  so  gay,  so 
prominent,  of  late,  that  almost  any  well-feed  lawyer 
could  "  — 

Claire  interrupted  him,  there.  "  Leave  me  at 
once,"  she  said,  pointing  toward  the  door.  "  Leave 
me.  I  order  you  to  do  it  !  " 

He  obeyed  her,  but  stopped  when  he  had  nearly 
reached  the  threshold. 

"As  my  wife,"  he  said,  "you  would  reign  more 
proudly  than  you  have  ever  reigned  yet.  The  mo 
ment  you  were  free  I  would  be  so  glad  to  make  you 
mine  —  you,  the  loveliest  woman  I  ever  knew,  and 
the  most  finely,  strictly  pure  |  " 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  371 

"  Leave  me,"  she  repeated ;  but  he  had  quitted  the 
room  before  her  words  were  spoken. 

She  glanced  in  the  direction  whence  his  voice  had 
come  to  her,  and  then,  seeing  that  he  was  gone,  she 
dropped  back  upon  the  sofa,  and  sat  there,  staring 
straight  ahead  at  nothing,  with  tight-locked  hands 
and  colorless,  alarmed  face. 


XX. 

SHE  hoard  Hollister  reenter  the  house  that  night 
at  a  very  late  hour,  and  pass  to  his  own  apartments. 
It  was  only  after  dawn  that  she  obtained  a  little  rest 
less  and  broken  sleep.  By  nine  o'clock  she  rang  for 
her  coffee,  and  then,  after  forcing  herself  to  swallow 
it,  began  to  dress,  with,  her  maid's  assistance.  Mario 
was  a  perfect  servant.  As  she  performed  with  capa 
ble  .exactitude  one  after  another  careful  duty,  the 
ease  and  charm  of  being  thus  waited  upon  appealed 
to  Claire  with  an  ironical  emphasis.  The  very  soft 
ness  and  tasteful  make  of  her  garments  took  a  new 
and  dreary  meaning.  She  had  forgotten  for  weeks 
the  dainty  details  of  her  late  life,  its  elegance  of  tone, 
smoothness  of  movement,  nicety  of  balance.  These 
features  had  grown  customary  and  inconspicuous,  as 
cambric  will  in  time  grow  familiar  to  the  skin  that 
has  brushed  against  coarser  textures.  But  now  the 
light,  so  to  speak,  had  altered  ;  it  was  cloudy  and 
stormful ;  it  brought  out  in  vivid  relief  what  before 
had  been  clad  with  the  pleasant  haze  of  habit.  The 
very  carpet  beneath  Claire's  tread  took  a  reminding 
softness ;  the  numberless  attractions  and  comforts  of 
her  chamber  thrust  forward  special  claims  to  her 
heed ;  even  the  elaborate  or  simple  utensils  of  her 
dressing-table  had  each  its  distinct  note  of  souvenir. 
She  must  so  soon  lose  so  much  of  it  all ! 

As  if  by  some  automatic  and  involuntary  process, 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  373 

memory  slipped  images  and  pictures  before  her  men 
tal  vision  ;  she  had  noted  them  in  the  still,  dark 
hours  of  the  previous  night,  and  they  remained  un- 
banished  now  by  the  gluw  of  the  wintry  morning. 
She  saw  herself  a  child,  cowed  and  satirized  by  her 
coarse  and  domineering  mother;  she  witnessed  the 
episode  of  her  gentle  father's  firm  and  protective  re 
volt  ;  she  lived  again  through  the  prosperous  rise  of 
the  family  fortunes  ;  she  watched  herself  brave  and 
quell  the  insolence  of  Ada  Gerrard,  and  slowly  but 
surely  gain  rank  and  recognition  among  those  ad 
verse  and  disdainful  schoolfellows;  she  endured  anew 
the  chagrin  of  subsequent  decadence  —  the  common 
ness  and  the  disrelish  of  her  public  school  career,  the 
disappointment  and  monotony  of  her  Jersey  City  ex 
perience,  and  then,  lastly,  the  laborious  and  deathly 
tedium  of  Greenpoint.  .  .  .  Here  the  strange  pano 
rama  would  cease ;  the  magic-lantern  of  reminiscence 
had  no  more  lenses  in  its  shadowy  repository ;  the 
actual  took  the  place  of  dream,  and  startled  her  by 
an  aspect  more  unreal  than  though  wrought  merely 
of  recollection. 

Had  these  recent  weeks  all  been  true  ?  Had  she 
climbed  so  high  in  fact  and  not  in  fancy  ?  Was  the 
throne  from  which  fate  now  gave  harsh  threat  of 
pushing  her  a  throne  not  built  of  air,  but  material, 
tangible,  solid  ?  The  strangeness  of  her  own  history 
affected  her  in  a  purely  objective  way.  She  seemed 
to  stand  apart  from  it  and  regard  it  as  though  it  were 
some  lapse  of  singular  country  for  which  she  had 
gained  the  sight-seer's  best  vantage-point.  Its  ac 
clivities  were  so  sheer,  its  valleys  were  so  abrupt,  it 
took  such  headlong  plunges  and  made  such  unex 
pected  ascents, 


374  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

The  discreet  and  sedulous  Marie  divined  little  of 
what  engrossed  her  mistress's  mind,  and  withdrew 
in  her  wonted  humility  of  courtesy  when  Claire,  no 
longer  needing  her  service,  at  last  dismissed  her. 

But  before  doing  so,  Claire  took  pains  to  learn 
that  Hollister  had  not  yet  descended  for  his  break 
fast,  which  of  late  he  had  usually  eaten  alone  in  the 
great  dining-room.  She  soon  passed  into  her  adjacent 
boudoir,  where  fresh  treasures  and  mementos  ad 
dressed  her  through  a  silent  prophecy  of  coining  loss. 

Here  was  a  writing-table,  well  supplied  with  vari 
ous  kinds  of  note-paper,  all  bearing  her  initials  in 
differing  intertwisted  devices.  Not  long  ago  she  had 
questioned  her  husband  on  the  subject  of  the  Hollis 
ter  crest;  she  would  have  been  glad  enough  to  receive 
from  him  some  clew  that  might  lead  to  its  discovery ; 
but  he  had  expressed  frank  and  entire  ignorance  re 
garding  any  such  heraldic  symbol. 

Claire  took  a  sheet  of  note  paper,  and  in  a  hand 
that  was  just  unsteady  enough  to  show  her  how 
strong  an  inward  excitement  was  making  stealthy 
attack  upon  her  nervous  power,  began  a  brief  note 
to  Stuart  Goldwin.  When  finished,  the  note  (which 
bore  no  ceremonious  prefix  whatever,  and  was  un 
marked  by  any  date)  ran  as  follows  :  — 

"  The  words  which  you  chose  to  address  to  me  last 
night  have  permanently  ended  our  acquaintance.  As 
a  gentleman  to  a  gentlewoman,  you  were  impolite. 
As  a  man  to  a  woman,  you  were  far  worse.  I  desire 
that  you-  will  not  answer  these  few  lines,  and  that 
when  we  meet  again,  if  such  a  meeting  should  ever 
occur,  you  will  expect  from  me  no  more  sign  of  rec 
ognition  than  that  which  I  would  accord  any  one  who 
had  given  me  an  unpardonable  insult,  C.  H." 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAft.  375 

Claire  sealed  and  directed  this  note.  She  did  not 
send  it,  however.  After  its  completion  she  went 
downstairs  into  the  dining-room. 

Holiister  was  seated  there,  being  served  with  break 
fast.  He  had  already  found  it  impossible  to  eat ;  he 
was  sipping  a  second  or  third  cup  of  strong  tea. 

When  his  wife  appeared,  he  slightly  started.  Claire 
went  to  the  fire  and  stood  before  it,  letting  its  warmth 
and  glow  hold  her  in  thrall  for  quite  a  while.  Her 
back  was  now  turned  to  him ;  she  was  waiting  for 
the  butler  to  depart.  He  presently  did  so,  closing  a 
door  behind  his  exit  with  just  enough  accentuation 
to  make  the  sound  convey  decisive  and  final  import. 

Claire  then  slowly  turned,  removing  one  foot  from 
one  of  the  polished  rods  that  bordered  the  flame-lit 
hearthstone.  She  looked  straight  at  her  husband ; 
she  did  not  need  to  see  how  pale  he  was ;  her  first 
look  had  told  her  that.  She  had  chosen  to  ignore  all 
that  he  had  said  last  night.  It  did  not  cost  her  much 
effort  to  do  this ;  she  had  too  keen  a  sense  of  her  own 
wrong  toward  him  not  to  condone  the  reckless  way 
in  which  he  had  coupled  her  name  with  Goldwin's. 
Besides,  had  not  Goldwin's  own  words  to  her,  a  little 
later,  made  that  assault  seem  almost  justified?  She 
felt  nothing  toward  him  save  a  great  pity.  Her  pity 
sprang,  too,  from  remorse.  She  lacked  all  tender 
ness  ;  this,  joined  with  pity,  would  have  meant  love. 
*  And  I  cannot  love  him  ! '  she  had  already  reflected. 
'  If  I  only  could,  it  would  be  so  different.  But  I 
cannot.' 

When  she  spoke,  her  words  were  very  calm  and 
firm.  "  I  thought  you  might  have  something  more  to 
tell  me,"  she  said.  "  I  came  down  to  see  you  before 
you  went  away,  for  that  reason.  You  said  last  night 


376  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

that  everything  had  gone.  There  will  be  a  day  or 
two  left  us,  I  suppose ;  I  mean  a  day  or  two  of  — 
possession." 

He  was  stirring  the  tea  with  his  spoon.  His  eyes 
were  bent  on  the  table  as  he  did  so.  He  spoke  with 
out  lifting  them.  "  Oh,  yes,"  he  answered.  "  Per 
haps  four  or  five  days.  They  will  seize  the  house, 
after  that,"  he  went  on,  "  and  all  the  furniture  and 
valuables.  Of  course  they  can't  touch  what  is  really 
yours.  I  mean  your  diamonds,  your  dresses,  et 
cetera" 

A  pause  followed.  "  To-day  I  have  a  luncheon- 
party,"  said  Claire. 

"  Yes  .  .  .  you  told  me.     I  remember." 

"  I  hope  nothing  of  ...  of  that  sort  will  happen 
to-day." 

"  No."  He  had  taken  his  spoon  from  the  cup,  and 
was  staving  down  at  it,  as  though  he  wanted  to  make 
sure  of  some  flaw  in  its  metal.  His  face  was  not 
merely  pale ;  it  had  the  worn  look  of  severe  anxiety. 
"  You  can  have  your  luncheon-party  with  impunity. 
By  the  way,  our  own  chef  gets  it  up,  does  n't  he  ? 
You  didn't  have  Delmonico  or  any  one  else  in,  did 
you?"  . 

"No,"  she  answered.  "Pierre  was  to  do  it  all. 
He  had  his  full  orders  several  days  ago." 

A  fleet,  bitter  smile  crossed  Hollister's  lips.  He 
put  his  spoon  back  into  the  cup,  but  did  not  raise  his 
eyes.  "  Oh,  everything  is  safe  enough  for  to-day," 
he  said. 

Claire  moved  slowly  toward  him.  "  Herbert,"  she 
said,  and  put  forward  one  hand  ..."  I  don't  see 
why  we  should  not  be  friends  at  a  time  like  this. 
You  were  angry  last  night,  and  said  things  that  I  am 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  377 

sure  you  didn't  mean  —  things  that  I've  almost  for 
gotten,  and  want  entirely  to  forget.  Let  us  both  for 
get  them.  Let  us  be  friends  again,  and  talk  matters 
over  sensibly  —  as  we  ought  to  do." 

She  herself  was  not  aware  of  the  loveless  chill  that 
touched  every  word  she  had  just  spoken.  There  was 
something  absolutely  matter-of-fact  in  her  tones  ;  they 
rang  with  a  kind  of  commercial  loudness.  It  was 
almost  as  though  she  were  proposing  a  mercantile 
truce  between  man  and  man. 

Hollister  visibly  winced,  and  slowly  rose  from  the 
table.  Every  sentence  that  she  had  uttered  had  bit 
ten  into  his  very  soul.  His  pride  was  alive,  and 
keenly  so.  But  he  was  not  at  all  angry  ;  he  felt  too 
miserably  saddened  for  that. 

"  Claire,"  he  said,  "  we  had  best  not  talk  of  being 
friends.  If  I  spoke  to  you  harshly  last  night,  I  'm 
sorry.  I  don't  quite  recollect  just  what  I  did  say. 
Of  course  we  must  have  a  serious  talk  about  how  we 
are  to  live  in  future.  But  not  now,  if  you  please  — 
not  now.  Your  luncheon  will  go  off  all  properly 
enough.  Things  are  not  so  bad  as  that.  I  shall  be 
away  until  evening.  Perhaps  when  I  come  home 
again  we  can  have  our  talk." 

Claire  looked  at  him  with  hard,  bright  eyes.  She 
assured  herself  that  he  had  causelessly  repulsed  her. 
Even  allowing  the  wrong  that  she  had  done  him  of 
marrying  him  without  love,  why  should  he  now  repel, 
by  this  self-contained  austerity,  an  advance  which,  in 
her  egotistic  misery,  she  believed  a  sincere  and  spon 
taneous  one  ?  She  was  wholly  unaware  of  her  own 
unfortunate  demeanor  ;  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had 
done  her  best ;  she  had  tried  to  conciliate,  to  appease, 
to  mollify.  Was  not  her  note  to  Goldwiu  now  in  the 


3T8  Afr  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

pocket  of  her  gown?  Was  not  that  note  a  defense  of 
Herbert's  own  honor  as  of  hers?  She  made  the  dis 
tinctly  feminine  error,  while  she  rapidly  surveyed  the 
present  contingency,  of  taking  for  granted  that  her 
husband  possessed  some  obscure  and  mesmeric  intui 
tion  regarding  this  same  unseen  piece  of  writing. 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  she  replied,  with  an  actually 
wounded  manner  ;  "  you  may  do  just  as  you  please. 
I  might  have  resented  the  unjust  and  horrible  thing 
you  said  to  me  last  evening,  but  I  did  not.  I  did 
not,  because,  as  I  told  you,  1  thought  it  best  for  us  to 
be  friends  once  again." 

"  Friends."  He  repeated  the  word  with  a  harsh 
fragment  of  laughter.  His  changed  face  took  an 
other  speedy  change  ;  it  grew  sombre  and  forbidding. 
"  You  and  I,  Claire,  can  never  be  friends.  While  we 
live  together  hereafter  I  'm  afraid  it  must  only  be  as 
strangers." 

"  Strangers !  "  she  repeated,  haughtily  and  offend- 
edly. 

"  Yes  !  You  know  why."  He  walked  toward  the 
tapestried  door  of  the  dining-room,  and  flung  one  of 
its  curtains  aside,  holding  it  thus  while  he  stood  on 
the  threshold  and  looked  back  at  her.  "  You  yourself 
make  the  reason.  I  '11  do  all  I  can.  I  don't  know  of 
any  unjust  or  horrible  thing  that  I  said  last  evening. 
I  only  know  that  you  are  and  have  been  my  wife  in 
name  alone." 

He  had  forgotten  his  speech  regarding  Goldwin. 
He  had  never  had  any  suspicion,  however  remote, 
that  she  had  transgressed  her  wifely  vows.  He 
simply  felt  that  she  had  never  loved  him,  and  that 
she  had  married  him  for  place  and  promotion  in  a 
worldly  sense  ;  that,  and  no  more. 


Aft  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  379 

The  draperies  of  the  door  at  once  shrouded  his  de 
parting  figure.  Claire  stood  quite  still,  watching  the 
agitated  f  'Ids  settle  themselves  into  rest.  '  He  meant 
tli.it  Goldwin  is  my  lover,'  she  told  herself.  'What 
else  could  he  possibly  have  meant?' 

She  had  some  half-formed  intent  of  hurrying  after 
him  and  venting  her  indignation  in  no  weak  terms. 
Best  if  she  had  done  so ;  for  he  might  then  have  ex 
plained  away,  with  surprise  and  perhaps  contrition, 
the  fatal  blunder  that  she  had  made.  But  pride  soon 
came,  with  its  vetoing  interference.  She  did  not  stir 
until  she  heard  the  outer  door  close  after  him.  Then, 
knowing  that  he  was  gone,  she  let  pride  lay  its  gall 
on  her  hurt,  and  dull  her  mind  to  the  sense  of  what 
wrong  she  had  inflicted  on  him  by  the  permitted 
mockery  of  their  marriage. 

'He  had  no  reason  to  judge  so  vilely  of  me,'  sped 
her  thoughts.  *  His  approval  of  that  intimacy  was 
clearly  implied,  however  tacit.  What  must  our  lives 
together  now  become  ?  He  has  brought  a  shameful 
charge  against  me  ;  if  I  loved  him  I  could  doubtless 
pardon  him  ;  love  will  pardon  so  much.  But  as  it  is, 
there  must  always  remain  a  breach  between  us.  A 
continuance  of  our  present  brilliant  affluence  might 
bridge  it  over.  The  distractions  and  pleasures  of 
wealth,  fashion,  supremacy,  would  make  it  less  and 
less  apparent  to  both ;  but  poverty,  and  perhaps  even 
hardship  as  well,  —  how  should  these  fail  to  merci 
lessly  widen  it  ?  ' 

Everything  looked  black,  threatening,  and  miser 
able  to  Claire  as  she  began  to  attire  herself  for  the 
great  lunch.  Her  maid  had  just  finished  dressing 
her  hair,  when  a  note  was  handed  her. 

It  was  from  Mrs.  Vau  Horn.     Very  brief  and  en- 


380  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

tirely  courteous,  it  expressed  regret  that  a  sudden 
sick  headache  would  prevent  her  from  numbering 
herself  among  Claire's  favored  guests  that  morning. 
'  The  first  token  of  my  altered  fortunes,'  she  thought, 
with  a  pang  that  was  like  a  stab.  '  This  woman  was 
the  last  to  come  under  my  ensign ;  she  is  the  first  to 
desert  it.' 

She  recalled  Thurston's  words  to  her  at  the  opera 
on  the  previous  night.  Surely  there  was  some  grave 
discrepancy  between  these  and  the  acts  of  his  sister. 
As  for  the  headache,  that  was  of  course  transparent 
sham.  If  this  lofty  lady  had  wanted  to  deceive,  she 
might  have  done  so  more  plausibly.  But  perhaps 
she  did  not  care  whether  or  no  her  excuse  looked 
genuine.  Rats  leave  a  falling  house.  That  was  all 
the  letter  meant.  Claire  could  have  thrown  it  down 
upon  the  floor  and  stamped  on  it.  In  reality,  she 
tossed  it  with  seeming  unconcern  into  the  fire,  and 
gave  a  quiet  order  to  Marie  which  she  wished  taken 
directly  to  the  butler,  regarding  the  reduced  number 
of  her  coming  guests. 

When  Marie  reentered  the  apartment,  she  bore  a 
card.  It  was  the  card  of  Thurston.  On  it  were  writ 
ten  in  pencil  these  words :  "  I  beg  that  you  will  see 
me  for  a  few  moments,  if  you  can  possibly  manage." 

She  at  once  went  down  and  received  him.  He 
looked  fixedly  into  her  face  for  a  slight  while,  after 
they  had  seated  themselves.  He  knew  all  that  had 
happened,  and  he  understood  just  how  savage  and 
calamitous  must  seem  to  her  the  blows  from  which 
she  was  now  suffering.  He  read  excitement  and 
even  despair  in  every  line  of  her  features,  though  he 
clearly  perceived  that  botli  were  held  under  a  deter 
mined  repression. 


AX  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  381 

'  She  means  not  to  let  herself  go  one  inch,'  he  de 
cided.  '  If  she  did,  she  would  break  down  altogether. 
She  has  wound  herself  up  to  a  certain  pitch.  She  will 
keep  just  this  way  for  hours  yet.  She  will  keep  so  — 
if  nothing  strange  and  unforeseen  should  happen.' 

A  deep  and  vital  pity  pierced  him  while  he  watched 
her.  He  loved  her,  and  his  love  made  him  unreason 
ably  lenient.  A  sacred  sadness  invested  her,  for  his 
eyes,  in  this  the  hour  of  her  misfortune  and  over 
throw.  He  forgot  how  blameworthy  she  had  been, 
and  could  remember  only  that  destiny  would  soon 
hurl  in  the  dust  the  crown  that  she  had  worn  with  so 
much  grace  and  grandeur. 

"  Did  you  come  to  speak  of  my  —  of  our  trouble  ?  " 
she  said,  her  lip  quivering  for  an  instant  and  no  more. 

"  No,"  he  replied.  "  But  since  you  speak  of  it,  is 
all  chance  of  recovery  gone  ?  May  not  matters  right 
themselves  somehow?  " 

She  shook  her  head  in  quick  negative.  "  I  think 
not.  He  has  lost  everything  —  or  nearly  that."  She 
broke  into  a  smile,  which  had  for  her  companion  only 
the  brightness  one  might  see  in  tears.  "  I  suppose 
it  seems  to  you  like  a  punishment  —  a  retribution." 
Her  gaze  dwelt  on  him  with  a  mournful  kind  of 
pleasantry.  It  was  like  the  spirit  of  Comedy  slip 
ping  her  gay  mask  a  little  down  and  showing  beneath 
it  a  glimpse  of  pallor  and  fatigue. 

"  But  do  not  let  us  talk  of  that.  You  wanted  to 
talk  of  something  else.  What  was  it?  your  sister's 
refusal,  at  the  eleventh  hour,  to  come  to  my  lunch  ?  " 

"  Has  she  refused  ?  " 

"  She  has  a  sick  headache,"  returned  Claire,  with 
a  bit  of  joyless  laughter — the  saddest  he  had  ever 
heard  leave  her  lips.  "  I  don't  doubt  our  disreputa- 


882  AN  AMBITIOUS 

ble  downfall  lias  given  it  to  her.  Don't  make  excuses 
for  her  ;  she  is  quite  right  to  have  her  headache.  It 's 
a  fastidious  prerogative,  you  know.  I  shan't  require 
a  physician  s  certificate.  I  only  hope  that  all  the 
others  will  be  cruel  in  just  as  civil  a  manner.'' 

The  tragic  bitterness  of  these  woixb,  though  they 
were  quietly  enough  uttered,  stung  Thurstou  to  the 
quick.  When  a  man  loves  as  he  loved,  compassion 
•waits  the  ready  vassal  of  tenderness.  lie  had  a  mo 
mentary  feeling  of  hostility  against  an  elusive,  dis 
embodied  foe  —  against  circumstance  itself,  so  to 
speak,  for  having  wrought  discord  in  a  life  that  was 
meant  to  hold  nothing  but  melody. 

lie  swiftly  decided  not  to  tell  the  real  truth  re 
garding  his  sister.  ''I  would  not  concern  myself 
with  Cornelia's  absence,"  he  said.  "Another  mat 
ter,  of  much  more  import,  must  be  brought  to  your 
notice.  It  is  then  settled  that  Cornelia  remains 
away.  I  did  not  know  that  she  would  do  so.  She 
made  no  mention  of  it  during  our  interview  last 
night." 

"  Her  headache  had  not  arrived.  Neither  had  the 
morning  papers,  which  said  such  hard  things  of  my 
husband." 

"  As  you  will.  Let  all  that  pass.  I  wish  to  speak 
of  a  lady  who  will  almost  certainly  be  present  at  your 
entertainment  to-day.  I  mean  Sylvia  Lee.  Don't 
ask  me  why  I  warn  you  against  her,  for  I  can't  give 
you  any  lucid  reasons.  She  intends  some  mischief. 
I  suspected  it  last  night  from  something  my  sister  let 
fall,  and  I  visited  Mrs.  Lee  this  morning  with  a  most 
detective  purpose.  I  gained  no  clew,  and  yet  my 
suspicions  were  by  no  means  lulled.  I  have  never 
liked  Sylvia;  we  are  related,  but  she  has  always 


AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  383 

struck  me  as  an  abhorrent  kind  of  creature,  bristling 
with  artifice,  destitute  of  nearly  all  morale,  capable 
of  the  worst  cunning,  equipped  with  the  most  subtle 
resources  of  treachery.  Be  on  your  guard  against 
her  to-day.  This  sounds  mysterious  —  melodramatic, 
if  you  will ;  but  she  has  some  snare  laid  for  you, 
some  petty  but  perhaps  ugly  revenge.  You  know 
why  I  use  that  last  word.  She  has  wanted  to  marry 
Gold  win  for  years.  She  isn't  a  bit  above  the  gross 
est,  most  unscrupulous  hatred.  She  told  me  that  she 
did  n't  believe  in  your  husband's  ruin,  and  that  a  few 
more  days  would  see  him  on  his  feet  again.  This 
makes  me  all  the  more  convinced  that  she  will  not 
put  her  little  sharpened  dagger  back  into  its  sheath. 
She  has  hatched  some  sort  of  horrid  plot.  Thwart 
it  if  you  can.  I  wish  I  could  be  here  to  help  you." 

Claire  had  grown  very  pale,  but  her  eyes  sparkled 
vividly.  "  I  am  your  debtor  for  these  tidings,"  she 
said.  She  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  he  surmised  that 
under  the  soft  curve  of  her  joined  lips  she  had  for 
a  brief  moment  set  her  teeth  closely  together.  "  I 
thought  the  lunch  would  be  a  hard  ordeal,  even  as 
matters  stood,"  she  went  on,  "and  that  I  would  need 
my  best  nerve  and  courage  to  get  through  it  all  right, 
with  proper  coolness  and  dignity.  But  now  the  task 
looks  fur  lt>ss  easy.  Still,  I  shan't  flinch.  I  wish 
you  were  to  be  here :  but  that  is  not  possible." 

Just  then  a  clock  on  the  opposite  mantel  gave  one 
little  silver  note  that  told  it  was  half-past  twelve. 
Claire  rose  as  she  heard  the  sound.  *'  I  must  leave 
you  now."  she  pursued.  "  I  have  only  an  hour  left 
for  my  toilette,  and  I  shall  need  it  all."  She  threw 
back  her  head,  and  a  dreary  smile  gleamed  and  fled 
along  her  lips.  *'I  mean  to  meet  all  these  grand 


884  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

ladies  without  one  sign  of  defeat.  I  shan't  wear  my 
heart  on  ray  sleeve.  This  lunch  was  to  have  been 
my  crowning  triumph.  It  proves  a  funeral  -  feast, 
in  its  way,  but  they  shan't  find  me  playing  chief- 
mourner.  I  intend  to  die  game,  as  the  phrase  is." 
She  gave  a  slight  shudder,  drooping  her  eyes.  "  It 
will  be  as  though  I  stood  in  a  house  whose  walls 
might  crumble  all  about  me  at  any  moment  —  as  if 
I  could  hear  the  crack  of  plaster  and  the  creak  of 
beams.  But  I  shan't  run  away;  I  shall  stand  my 
ground  very  firmly,  depend  on  it,  until  the  bitter  end. 
When  the  crash  comes  nobody  will  be  buried  in  the 
ruins  but  myself  —  that  is  certain,  is  it  not  ?  " 

Here  her  joyless  laugh  again  sounded,  and  Thurs- 
ton,  swayed  by  an  irresistible  mood,  caught  one  of 
her  hands,  pressing  it  hard  within  his  own. 

"  You  shall  not  be  buried  in  the  ruins !  "  he  ex 
claimed.  "Take  my  word  for  it,  you  shall  not !  It 
will  all  only  be  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  better 
life.  You  shall  have  learned  a  hard  yet  salutary 
lesson  —  that,  and  nothing  more." 

She  shook  her  head,  meeting  his  earnest  eyes. 
"  You  are  my  good  genius,"  she  said.  "  It  is  too 
bad  you  have  not  had  more  power  over  me." 

'•  Who  is  your  evil  genius  ?  "  he  asked,  with  slower 
tones,  while  she  drew  her  hand  from  his. 

"  .Myself,"  she  answered.  "  I  am  quite  willing  to 
concede  it."  .  .  .  She  appeared  to  muse  for  a  little 
while.  "  I  shall  have  one  true  friend  here  to-day," 
she  soon  continued.  "  I  mean  Mrs.  Diggs.  She  is 
very  loyal  to  me  ;  she  would  do  almost  anything  I 
should  ask.  You  don't  like  her,  or  so  she  tells  me, 
but  I  hope  you  will  like  her  better  than  your  othei 
cousin,  Mrs.  Lee." 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  385 

"  I  respect  her  far  more.  I  have  never  doubted 
her  goodness.  But  she  gives  me  nerves,  as  the  French 
say.  She  is  at  such  a  perpetual  gallop ;  if  she  would 
only  break  into  a  trot,  sometimes,  it  would  be  like 
anybody  else's  walk.  .  .  .  You  think  you  can  truot 
her  as  an  ally  to-day?" 

"  Implicitly.  She  has  promised  to  come  early,  too 
—  before  the  others,  you  know."  .  .  .  Claire  locked 
the  fingers  of  both  hands  together,  and  held  them  so 
that  the  palms  were  bent  downward.  The  weary 
smile  again  touched  her  lips  and  vanished.  "  What 
a  day  it  is  to  be  !  And  what  a  day  it  might  have 
been  !  "  She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  after  that. 
"  Good-by.  With  all  my  heart  I  thank  you !  You 
have  done  all  that  you  could  do." 

He  did  not  promptly  reply.  He  was  thinking 
whether  he  had  really  done  all  that  he  could  do.  .  .  . 
And  this  thought  followed  him  hauntingly  as  he  left 
Claire  to  meet  whatever  catastrophe  fate  had  in  store 
for  her. 

Mrs.  Diggs  kept  her  promise,  and  was  shown  into 
Claire's  dressing  room  a  good  quarter  of  an  hour  be 
fore  the  other  guests  were  due.  The  lady  started  on 
seeing  her  friend,  whose  toilette  was  now  completed, 
and  whoso  robe,  worn  for  the  first  time,  was  of  a. 
regal  and  unique  beauty.  It  was  chiefly  of  white 
velvet,  whose  trailing  heaviness  blent  with  purple 
lengths  of  the  same  lustreless  and  sculpturesque  fab 
ric.  The  white  prevailed,  but  the  purple  was  richly 
manifest.  In  her  hair  she  wore,  aigrettes  of  sap 
phires  and  amethysts  shaped  to  resemble  pansies, 
and  while  the  sleeves  were  cut  short  enough  to  show 
either  arm  from  wjiist  almost  to  elbo\v,  and  permit  of 
bracelets  that  were  two  circles  of  jewels  wrought  in 
25 


386  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

semblance  of  the  same  flower  and  with  the  same  blue 
and  lilac  gems,  her  bust  and  throat  were  clad  in  one 
cloud  of  rare,  filmy  laces,  from  which  her  delicate 
head  rose  with  a  stately  yet  aerial  grace.  Excite 
ment  had  put  rosy  tints  in  either  cheek ;  the  jewels 
that  she  wore  had  no  sweeter  splendor  than  her  eyes, 
and  yet  both  by  color  and  glow  in  a  certain  way  aptly 
matched  them.  A  gear  of  velvet  is  dangerous  to 
women  in  whom  exuberance  of  figure  has  the  least 
assertive  rule.  Velvet  is  the  sworn  enemy  of  embon 
point.  But  Claire's  figure  was  of  such  supple  and 
flexile  slenderness  that  the  weight  and  volume  of  this 
apparel  made  her  light  step  and  airy  contour  win  a 
new  charm  and  a  new  vivacity. 

"  It  is  all  perfect  —  quite  perfect,"  said  Mrs.  Diggs, 
after  taking  a  rapid  survey  of  Claire's  attire.  "  But, 
my  dear,  are  you  perfectly  sure  that "... 

"  Sure  of  what?  "  Claire  asked,  as  her  friend  hesi 
tated, 

"  Well  .  .  .  that  it  is  just  in  good  taste,  don't  you 
know  ?  I  mean,  under  the  circumstances." 

"What  circumstances?"  she  exclaimed,  putting  the 
question  as  though  she  did  not  wish  it  answered,  and 
moving  a  few  paces  away  with  an  air  of  great  pride. 
"I  intend  to  fall  gloriously.  The  end  has  come,  the 
fight  is  lost;  but  I  shan't  make  a  tame  surrender  — 
not  I !  They  shall  see  me  at  my  best  to-day,  in 
looks,  in  speech,  in  manner.  I  'm  glad  you  like  my 
dress;  I  want  it  to  be  something  memorable." 

"  You  say  that  with  a  kind  of  bravado,  Claire. 
There  's  a  bitter  ring  to  your  mirth.  Oh,  I  'm  so 
sorry  for  you  !  That  lovely  dress  hides  an  aching 
heart.  You  will  suffer,  poor  child.  This  lunch  will 
be  a  positive  torture  to  you," 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  387 

A  moment  after  these  words  were  spoken,  Clairo 
was  close  at  Mrs.  Diggs's  side,  holding  one  of  her 
hands  with  firm  pressure. 

"  You  don't  know  how  much  of  a  torture  it  must 
be,"  she  said,  "and  for  wliat  reason."  She  immedi 
ately  repeated  all  that  Thurston  had  told  her.  When 
she  had  finished,  Mrs.  Diggs  was  in  a  high  state  of 
perturbation. 

"  I  have  n't  a  doubt  that  Beverley  is  right ! "  she 
exclaimed.  "  If  there  was  any  plot,  Cornelia  Van 
Horn  was  in  it,  too,  and  her  brother  has  made  her 
throw  away  her  weapons.  But  Sylvia  Lee  intends 
to  deal  the  blow  alone.  .  .  .  What  can  it  be?  I'm 
at  my  wit's  end  to  guess.  There  's  but  one  thing  to 
do — keep  a  continual  watch  upon  her.  Claire,  can 
you  be,  by  any  chance,  in  that  woman's  power?  " 

"  Her  power?"  faltered  Claire.  .  .  .  "I  hope  not," 
she  added.  .  .  .  "  I  knotv  not,"  she  then  said,  as  the 
full  sense  of  Mrs.  Diggs's  question  struck  her,  and 
using  a  tone  that  was  one  of  surprised  affront. 

"Now,  don't  be  offended,  my  dear.  I  merely 
meant  that  Sylvia  isn't  a  bit  too  good  to  magnify 
some  slight  imprudence,  or  twist  and  turn  it  until 
she  has  got  it  dangerously  like  an  actu!ll  crime. 
.  .  .  But  nous  verrons.  After  all,  Beverley's  fears 
may  be  groundless.  With  all  my  heart  I  hope  they 
are ! " 

Not  long  afterward  Claire  was  receiving  her  guests. 
All  the  great  ladies  came,  except,  of  course,  Mrs.  Van 
Horn.  The  last  arrival  was  that  of  Mrs.  Lee.  She 
contrived  to  make  her  entrance  a  very  conspicuous 
one.  She  was  dressed  with  even  more  fantastic  odd 
ity  than  usual,  and  she  spoke  in  so  shrill  and  peculiar 
a  voice  that  she  had  not  been  in  the  drawing-room 


388  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

more  than  five  minutes  before  marked  and  universal 
attention  was  directed  upon  her. 

"Sylvia  is  in  a  very  singular  state  of  excitement," 
Mrs.  Digsrs  murmured  to  Claire.  "I  know  her  well. 

oo 

That  slow  drawl  of  hers  has  entirely  gone.  She  acts 
to  me  as  if  she  were  on  the  verge  of  hysteria.  I  don't 
know  whether  you  felt  her  hand  tremble  as  it  shook 
yours,  but  I  thought  that  I  plainly  saw  it  tremble. 
Just  watch  her,  now,  while  she  talks  with  Mrs.  Van- 
velsor.  She  has  a  little  crimson  dot  in  each  of  her 
cheeks,  and  she  is  usually  quite  pale,  you  know. 
There 's  something  in  the  wind  —  Beverley  was 
right." 

"Her  place  at  the  table  is  rather  distant  from 
mine,"  said  Claire,  with  a  scornful,  transitory  curl  of 
the  lip.  "  So  there  is  no  danger  of  her  putting  a 
pinch  of  arsenic  into  my  wine-glass." 

"  You  're  not  nervous,  then  ?  I  am.  1  don't  know 
just  why,  but  I  am." 

"  Nervous  ?  "  Claire  softly  echoed.  "  No,  not  at 
all,  now.  I  've  oilier  more  important  things  to  think 
of.  What  could  she  do,  after  all?  Let  her  attempt 
any  folly ;  it  would  only  recoil  on  herself.  .  .  .  Ah, 
my  friend,  I  am  afraid  I  'm  past  being  injured.  This 
is  my  finale.  I  want  it  to  prove  a  grand  one.'' 

"It  will,  Claire.  They  have  all  come,  as  you  see. 
They  have  met  you  with  perfect  cordiality,  and  you 
have  received  them  with  every  bit  of  your  accus 
tomed  grace.  I  dare  say  that  some  of  them  are 
stunned  with  amazement ;  they  no  doubt  expected  to 
find  you  shivering  and  colorless." 

The  repast  was  magnificent.  There  were  more 
than  thirty  ladies  present,  and  these,  all  brilliantly 
attired  and  some  of  striking  personal  beauty,  mado 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. .  389 

the  prodigal  array  of  flowers,  the  admirable  service 
of  many  delicious  viands,  and  the  soft  music  pealing 
from  the  near  hall  just  loudly  enough  not  to  drown 
conversation  while  it  filled  pauses,  produce  an  effect 
where  the  most  unrestrained  hospitality  was  mingled 
with  a  faultless  refinement. 

Claire's  spirits  seemed  to  rise  as  the  decorous  yet 
lavish  banquet  proceeded.  Her  laugh  now  and  then 
rang  out  clear  and  sweet,  while  she  addressed  this  or 
that  lady,  at  various  distances  from  where  she  herself 
sat.  Mrs.  Diggs,  whose  place  was  next  her  own,  ob 
served  it  all  with  secret  wonder.  She  alone  knew  the 
bleeding  pride,  the'  balked  aspiration,  the  thwarted 
yearning,  which  this  pathetic  and  fictitious  buoyancy 
hid.  It  was  a  defiance,  and  yet  how  skilled  and  ra 
diant  a  one  !  Could  you  blame  the  woman  who  knew 
how  to  bloom  and  sparkle  like  this,  for  loving  the 
world  where  such  dainty  eminence  was  envied  and 
prized  ?  Was  there  not  a  touch  of  genius  in  her  pit 
iable  yet  dauntless  masquerade  ?  Who  else  could 
have  played  the  same  part  with  the  same  deft  secur 
ity,  and  in  the  very  teeth  of  failure  and  dethrone 
ment  ? 

Claire's  gayety  and  self-possession  made  more  than 
one  of  her  guests  lose  faith  in  tne  tale  of  her  hus 
band's  ruin.  They  were  all  women  of  the  world,  and 
they  all  had  the  tact  and  breeding  to  perceive  that 
their  hostess,  now  if  ever,  merited  their  best  courtesy. 
They  could  all  have  staid  away  at  the  last  moment ; 
Mrs.  Van  Horn  held  no  exclusive  claim  to  the  pos 
session  of  her  headache;  its  right  of  appropriation  be 
longed  elsewhere.  But  they  had  not  availed  them 
selves  of  it  ;  they  had  chosen  to  sit  at  Claire's  board, 
to  break  her  delicate  bre~vl.  Hence  they  owed  her 


390  AN"  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

their  allegiance  to-day,  even  if  to-morrow  they  should 
find  expediency  in  its  harshest  opposite.  But  it  now 
appeared  to  them  as  if  she  were  refuting  the  wide 
spread  rumor  of  her  husband's  misfortunes  ;  her  own 
equipoise  and  scintillanco  bespoke  this  no  less  than 
the  irreproachable  chic  of  the  entertainment  to  which 
she  had  bidden  them. 

Mrs.  Lee  was  not  very  far  away  from  Claire,  and 
vet  the  latter  never  addressed  or  seemed  to  notice 

•/ 

her.  But  Mrs.  Diggs  noticed  her;  she  indeed  main 
tained  a  vigilant,  though  repressed,  watchfulness. 

"  You  have  quieted  her,"  she  found  a  chance  to 
murmur  in  Claire's  ear,  sure  that  the  indefinite  na 
ture  of  the  pronoun  would  not  be  misunderstood. 
"She  is  still  looking  excited  and  queer,  but  she  has 
almost  relapsed  into  silence.  Perhaps  she  really 
wanted  to  poison  you,  and  feels  hurt  at  the  lost  op 
portunity."  Mrs.  Diggs  had  had  several  sips  of  good 
wine,  and  felt  her  anxiety  lessened ;  her  jocose  ebul 
lition  was  the  result  of  steadied  nerves.  "  I  never 
saw  you  so  spirituelle,  Claire,"  she  went  on.  "  You 
have  said  at  least  eight  delicious  things.  I  have  them 
all  mentally  booked,  my  dear.  When  we  are  next 
alone  together  I  will  remind  you  of  them." 

"  Pray  don't/'^Claire  answered,  putting  the  words 
into  a  still  lower  aside  than  her  friend's.  "  I  shall 
have  hard  enough  work  to  forget,  then.  I  shall  want 
only  to  forget,  too." 

She  had  just  finished  this  faint-spoken  sentence 
when  one  of  the  servants  handed  her  a  note.  As 
she  glanced  at  its  superscription  the  thought  passed 
through  her  mind  that  it  might  be  some  dire  and 
alarming  message  from  her  husband.  But  the  next 
instant  a  flash  of  recollection  assailed  her.  She  re- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  391 

membered  the  handwriting  —  or,  at  least,  in  this  fes 
tive  and  distracting  environment,  she  more  than  half 
believed  that  she  did  so. 

Her  hands,  while  she  swiftly  tore  open  the  en 
velope,  were  dropped  upon  her  lap.  She  read  several 
lines  of  a  note,  and  then  crushed  it,  quickly  and 
covertly.  As  her  eyes  met  those  of  Mrs.  Diggs  she 
had  a  sense  that  she  was  becoming  ghastly  pale. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  whispered  her  friend. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  she  afterward  remembered  saying. 
The  servant  was  still  close  at  her  elbow.  She  turned 
her  head  toward  him. 

"Let  her  wait,"  she  said.  "Tell  her  that  I  will 
see  her  quite  soon." 

The  whole  affair  had  been  very  rapid  of  occur 
rence.  No  one  present  had  given  a  sign  of  having 
observed  it. 

*  If  I  had  only  not  grown  so  pale,'  she  thought. 

The  paper  was  still  clutched  in  her  left  hand,  and 
she  had  thrust  this  half-way  beneath  the  table-cover. 
With  her  right  hand  she  began  to  make  a  play  of 
eating  something  from  the  plate  before  her,  as  she 
addressed  the  lady  on  her  other  side.  What  she  said 
must  have  been  something  very  gracious  and  pleas 
ant,  for  the  lady  smiled  and  answered  affably,  while 
the  servants  glided,  the  music  sounded,  the  delight 
ful  feast  progressed.  Everything  had  grown  dim 
and  whirling  to  Claire.  And  yet  she  had  already 
realized  perfectly  that  Mrs.  Lee  was  striking  her 
blow.  It  had  come,  sudden,  cruel,  direct.  Her 
blurred  mind,  her  weakened  and  chilling  body,  did 
not  leave  that  one  fact  any  the  less  clear.  She  un 
derstood  just  what  it  was,  why  it  was,  and  whence  it 
was. 


392  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

The  note  had  been  from  her  mother.  It  was  half 
illiterate  invective,  half  threatening  rebuke.  Its 
writer  waited  outside  and  demanded  to  see  her.  "  If 
you  don't  come,"  the  ill-shaped  writing  ran,  "  I  will 
come  to  you."  Claire  knew  that  this  thing  had  been 
Mrs.  Lee's  work  as  well  as  if  a  thousand  witnesses 
had  averred  it.  The  missive  contained  no  mention 
of  Mrs.  Lee,  but  she  nevertheless  had  her  certainty. 

'I  must  go,'  she  told  herself.  'I  must  go  and 
meet  her.  Can  I  go  ?  Can  I  walk,  feeling  as  I  do  ? 
Should  I  not  fall  if  I  tried  ?  ' 

She  always  afterward  remembered  the  food  that 
her  fork  now  touched  and  trifled  with.  It  was  a 
sweetbread  croquette,  with  little  black  specks  of 
chopped  truffle  in  its  creamy  yielding  oval,  and  the 
air  that  they  were  playing  out  in  the  hall  was  from  a 
light,  valueless  opera,  then  much  in  vogue.  She  al 
ways  afterward  remembered  that,  too.  So  do  slight 
events  often  press  themselves  in  upon  the  dazed  and 
dilated  vision  of  a  great  distress. 

*  Can  I  rise  and  walk  ? '  she  kept  thinking. 
'  Should  I  not  fall  if  I  tried  ?  ' 


XXI. 

IT  is  doubtful  if  any  guest  save  Mrs.  Diggs  and 
one  other  had  seen  Claire  either  receive,  open,  or 
read  her  note.  The  constant  movements  of  servants 
hither  and  thither,  and  the  little  conversational 
cliques  formed  among  the  ladies  at  this  central  stage 
of  the  entertainment,  would  have  made  such  an  es 
cape  from  general  notice  both  natural  and  probable. 
But  Mrs.  Diggs,  who  had  thus  far  kept  a  furtive 
though  incessant  watch  upon  Mrs.  Lee,  soon  felt 
certain  that  her  cousin  had  not  merely  seen  what  had 
passed ;  she  was  visibly  affected  by  it  as  well ;  she 
could  not  help  regarding  Claire  across  the  considera 
ble  space  which  intervened  between  them.  Her  ex 
pression  was  a  most  imprudent  betrayal ;  it  clearly 
told,  by  its  acerbity  and  exultance,  that  she  held 
the  present  occasion  to  be  one  of  prodigious  and  tri 
umphant  import.  No  one  except  Mrs.  Diggs  was 
watching  her,  and  she  was  unaware  of  even  that 
sidelong  but  intent  gaze.  The  natural  mobility  of 
her  odd  face,  which  repelled  some  and  attracted 
others,  needed  at  all  times  a  certain  check  ;  but  cha 
grins  or  satisfactions  were  both  readily  imprinted 
there.  It  corresponded  to  the  pliability  of  her  body ; 
it  would  have  been  a  face  in  which  some  clever  ac 
tress  might  have  found  a  fortune.  She  usually 
restrained  it  with  discretion,  but  just  now  the  force 


394  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

of  a  malign  joy  swept  aside  prudent  control.  Before 
Mrs.  Diggs's  exploring  search  of  it  ended,  her  last 
doubt  had  fled. 

'  I  never  saw  her  look  more  like  the  snake  that  she 
is,'  Claire's  friend  had  thought.  '  The  mischief  — 
the  deviltry,  it  may  be  —  lies  in  that  letter.  Claire 
has  grown  as  white  as  its  paper ;  but  nobody  notices, 
thank  Heaven  !  She  won't  faint  —  she  is  n't  of  the 
fainting  sort.' 

"  Claire,"  she  now  said  aloud,  yet  in  tones  which 
the  most  adroit  of  eavesdroppers  could  not  have  more 
than  just  vaguely  overheard,  "did  you  get  any  bad 
news  a  minute  ago  ?  " 

Claire  was  no  longer  addressing  the  lady  at  her 
side.  "  Why  do  you  ask  ?  "  she  responded.  "  Do  I 
look  pale  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all ;  not  the  least  in  the  world ;  I  've 
never  seen  you  more  composed,"  returned  Mrs.  Diggs, 
with  encftmous  mendacity,  hoping  that  her  charitable 
lie  would  bear  reassuring  and  tranquilizing  results. 

It  did,  as  soon  became  apparent.  Claire's  condi 
tion  was  that  in  which  we  grasp  at  straws.  Per 
haps  she  grew  several  shades  less  pale  on  hearing 
that  she  was  not  so. 

"  I  must  leave  the  room,"  she  said,  pronouncing 
the  words  with  the  edges  of  her  lips.  "  I  must  leave 
immediately." 

"  Are  you  unwell  ?  " 

"  No  —  yes  —  it  is  n't  that.  I  must  go.  Could  I 
do  it  without  —  without  —  ?  "  She  paused  here  ;  she 
had  not  enough  clearness  of  thought,  just  then,  to 
finish  her  sentence  coherently. 

"  Without  causing  remark  ?  "  gently  broke  in  Mrs. 
Diggs,  "  Why,  of  course  you  could,  my  dear.  ArQ 


AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN.  395 

you  not  hostess  ?  A  hundred  things  might  call  you 
away  for  a  little  while.  No  one  would  dream  of 
thinking  it  in  the  least  strange.  Why  on  earth 
should  one?  " 

There  was  a  light  nonchalance  about  this  answer 
that  Mrs.  Diggs  by  no  means  felt.  She  knew  that 
something  had  gone  terribly  wrong.  Her  rejoinder 
had  been  a  stroke  of  impromptu  tact,  just  as  her  re 
cent  glib  falsehood  had  been. 

Its  effect  upon  Claire  was  immediate.  Her  friend 
was  doing  her  thinking  for  her,  so  to  speak,  and  was 
doing  it  with  a  rapid,  unhesitating  aplomb. 

"  You  don't  know  what  has  happened,  do  you  ?  " 
she  now  said. 

Mrs.  Diggs  at  once  felt  the  helpless  disability  of 
mind  and  nerves  which  this  last  faltered  question 
implied. 

"  Give  me  your  note,"  she  said.  "  Slip  it  under 
the  table.  You  will  not  be  seen." 

Claire  obeyed.  Mrs.  Diggs  had  long  ago  learned 
how  and  Avhy  her  friend  had  left  home,  before  that 
episode  began  of  her  residence  with  the  Bergemanns. 
She  read  the  note  like  lightning,  and  digested  its  con 
tents  with  an  almost  equal  speed.  The  sprawl  of  its 
writing  was  uncouth  enough,  but  not  illegible. 

For  a  slight  space  horrified  sympathy  kept  her 
silent.  Then  she  said,  with  a  coolness  and  placidity 
that  did  her  fine  credit,  considering  the  cause  in 
which  she  employed  them  :  — 

"  I  would  go  at  once.  You  can  keep  everything 
quiet.  Of  course  you  can.  I  will  follow  you  shortly. 
I  will  make  a  perfect  excuse  for  you.  You  are  feel 
ing  a  little  unwell  —  that  is  all.  No  one  has  no 
ticed  ;  take  my  word  for  that ;  I  am  simply  certain 


396  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

of  it.  When  you  return  —  which  I  promise  you  that 
you  shall  do  quite  soon  —  scarcely  a  comment  will 
have  been  made  on  your  absence.  Go,  by  all  means. 
Go  at  once,  as  I  said." 

'  Some  of  her  color  has  come  back,'  at  the  same 
time  passed  through  poor  Mrs.  Diggs's  anxious  and 
agitated  thoughts.  '  i  knew  she  would  n't  faint ;  it 
is  n't  in  her.  She  will  see  that  I  'in  right,  in  a  minute. 
Her  wits  will  begin  to  work.  She  will  go.' 

Claire  did  go.  She  had  no  after-recollection  of 
how  she  left  the  great  dining-room.  But  she  had  in 
deed  moved  from  it  in  so  silent  and  yet  so  swift  a 
way  that  her  chair  had  been  vacant  several  seconds, 
and  her  skirts  were  sweeping  one  of  the  thresholds 
of  exit,  before  the  fact  of  her  departure  became  even 
half  perceived  among  the  guests. 

Once  in  the  large,  empty  drawing-room  immedi 
ately  beyond  that  which  she  had  quitted,  she  felt  her 
leaping  heart  grow  quiet,  and  her  bewildered  brain 
clear.  It  took  only  seconds,  now,  to  restore  in  a 
great  measure  her  self-possession  and  her  courage. 

She  passed  into  the  further  drawing-room.  Both 
were  as  void  of  human  occupant*  as  they  were  rich 
and  stately  in  their  countless  beauties  of  adornment. 
Her  visitor  was  evidently  not  here.  Then  she  re 
membered  the  smaller  reception-room  which  opened 
off  from  the  main  hall.  She  directed  her  steps 
thither.  They  were  firm  steps  ;  she  had  grown  sen 
sible  of  this,  and  of  her  newly  acquired  composure  as 
well. 

Two  breadths  of  Turkish  tapestry  hung  down  over 
the  doorway  of  the  reception-room,  thus  obscuring  its 
interior.  As  Claire  softly  parted  them  and  entered, 
she  saw  her  mother. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  397 

Mrs.  Twining  stood  near  a  white -and -gilt  table 
that  was  loaded  with  choice  ornaments.  The  cham 
ber  was  one  of  great  elegance  and  charm.  It  was  all 
white  and  gilt  and  pink  ;  there  were  cherubs  on  its 
ceiling  throwing  roses  at  each  other ;  its  hangings 
were  of  rose-color,  and  its  two  or  three  mirrors  were 
framed  in  porcelain  of  rare  design.  A  connoisseur 
who  was  among  Claire's  admirers  had  once  assured 
her  that  this  little  room  was  exquisite  enough  to  stir 
the  dust  of  Pompadour. 

Mrs.  Twining  did  not  at  all  look  as  though  she 
might  have  been  any  such  famous  ghost.  Not  that 
she  did  not  present  a  ghostly  appearance.  Her  black 
eyes  seemed  to  be  of  twice  their  former  size,  so  lean 
and  haggard  was  her  altered  face.  Its  cheek-bones 
stood  out  with  a  sharp  prominence.  You  saw  at  once 
that  some  serious  illness  had  wrought  this  wan  havoc. 
Her  garments  were  dark  and  decent ;  she  did  not 
seem  to  be  a  beggar  ;  no  rusty  and  shabby  poverty 
was  manifest  on  her  person.  She  had  refused  stoutly 
to  wait  in  the  hall,  and  the  servant  who  had  ad 
mitted  her,  being  hurried  with  other  matters,  had 
yielded  to  her  insistence,  yet  deputed  an  underling 
to  keep  watch  on  the  reception-room  after  showing 
her  thither.  Claire  had  not  seen  the  sentinel,  who 
was  stationed  at  a  little  distance  up  the  hall,  and 
who  joined  his  fellows  when  sure  that  the  lady  of 
the  house  had  condescended  to  meet  this  troublesome 
intruder. 

Mrs.  Twining  looked  boldly  and  severely  at  her 
daughter.  The  drapery  had  fallen  behind  Claire's 
advancing  figure.  The  two  faced  each  other  in  si 
lence  for  a  lapse  of  time  that  both  no  doubt  thought 
longer  than  it  really  was.  Each,  in  her  different 


398  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

way,  had  an  acute  change  to  confront.  Claire  scarcely 
recognized  her  mother  at  first.  Mrs.  Twining,  on  her 
own  side,  hud  good  reasons  to  be  prepared  for  a  dif 
ference,  and  the  superb  house  had  in  a  way  told  her, 
too,  what  she  might  expect.  But  still,  for  all  that, 
this  was  Claire !  This  was  her  Claire,  whom  she  had 
last  seen  not  far  removed  from  slums  and  gutters  — 
who  had  gone  forth  from  the  little  Green  point  home, 
not  two  years  since,  to  follow  her  father's  charity- 
buried  corpse  !  And  here  she  stood,  clad  in  her 
white-and-purple  vestments,  a  shape  of  more  lovely 
and  high-bred  elegance  than  any  she  had  ever  looked 
upon.  The  face  was  the  same  —  there  could  be  no 
doubt  of  that.  But  everything  else  —  the  figure,  the 
attire,  the  jewels,  the  velvets,  the  laces,  the  move 
ment,  the  posture,  the  mien  ...  it  was  all  iike 
some  fabulous,  incredible  enchantment. 

Forewarned  and  forearmed  as  she  had  been,  Mrs. 
Twining  stood  wonder-stricken  and  confused.  The 
soft  strains  of  the  near  music  seemed  to  speak  to  her 
instead  of  Claire's  own  voice,  and  with  a  disdain  in 
their  melody.  She  saw  no  disdain  on  Claire's  face, 
however,  as  her  eyes  scanned  it.  But  it  was  quite 
inflexible,  though  very  pale. 

Claire  broke  the  silence  —  if  that  could  be  called 
mere  silence  which  was  for  both  so  electric  and  preg 
nant  an  interval. 

"  You  have  come  at  a  strange  time.  And  your 
note  shows  me  that  you  chose  it  purposely." 

Mrs.  Twining  gave  a  sombre  laugh.  What  asso 
ciations  the  sound  woke  in  its  hearer  ! 

"  I  was  all  ready  for  just  this  kind  of  a  welcome," 
she  said,  knitting  her  brows.  She  began  to  stare 
about  the  room.  "  It 's  very  fine.  Jt  's  mighty 


A  A"  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  399 

splendid,  But  I  wonder  the  walls  of  this  house  don't 
fall  and  crush  you,  Claire  Twining !  I  wonder  I 
ain't  got  the  power,  myself,  to  strike  you  dead  with 
a  look  !  "  Her  voice  now  became  a  growl  of  menace  ; 
there  was  something  very  genuine  in  her  wrath, 
which  she  had  persuaded  herself  to  believe  an  out 
growth  of  hideous  ingratitude.  "  But  I  did  n't  come 
to  show  you  your  own  badness,"  she  went  on.  "You 
know  all  about  that  a'ready.  What  I  've  come  for 
is  quite  another  kind  of  a  thing  —  oh,  yes,  quite." 
Here  she  laughed  again,  with  her  mouth  curving 
downward  grimly  at  each  corner. 

"  What  have  you  come  for?"  inquired  Claire. 

"  To  get  my  rights  !  —  that's  what  I  've  come  for ! 
To  let  people  see  who  I  am,  and  how  you  've  cast  me 
off  —  me,  your  mother.  I  d'clare  I  don't  believe 
there  ever  was  so  horrible  a  case  before.  Perhaps 
some  o'  the  folks  in  yonder  can  tell  me  if  they  ever 
knew  one." 

Claire  kept  silent  for  a  moment.  Her  face  was 
white  to  the  lips,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  flinching 
in  it. 

"I  did  not  cast  you  off,"  she  said.  "I  left  you 
because  you  outraged  and  insulted  the  dead  body  of 
my  father.  I  have  never  regretted  the  step  I  took, 
nor  do  I  regret  it  now.  You  say  you  've  come  here 
to  get  your  rights.  What  rights?  Shelter  and  food? 

O          \/  o 

You  shall  receive  these  if  you  want  them.  I  will 
ring  and  give  orders  at  once  that  you  shall  be  taken 
to  a  comfortable  room  and  be  treated  with  every  care 
that  it  is  in  my  power  to  bestow.  In  spite  of  what 
I  said  to  you  on  the  day  when  you  shocked  and  tor 
tured  me  into  saying  it,  I  would  still  have  sought 
you  out  and  rendered  you  my  best  aid,  if  I  had 


400  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

known  that  you  were  ill.  For  I  see  that  you  have 
been  ill  —  your  appearance  makes  that  very  plain. 
But  I  had  no  knowledge  of  any  such  fact.  You  were 
stronger  than  I  when  we  parted  —  stronger,  indeed, 
and  better  able  to  work.  This  is  all  that  I  am  will 
ing  to  say  at  present.  In  an  hour  or  two  I  will  join 
you,  and  hear  anything  you  may  choose  to  tell  me." 

While  Claire  was  in  the  midst  of  this  rather  pro 
longed  reply,  Mrs.  Diggs  quietly  entered  the  room. 
The  speaker  saw  her,  and  did  not  pause  for  an  in 
stant,  but  put  forth  her  hand,  which  Mrs.  Diggs 
took,  while  she  steadily  watched  the  large,  gaunt, 
hollow-cheeked  woman  whom  her  friend  addressed. 

If  anything  could  have  intensified  the  vast  sense 
of  accumulated  wrong  in  Mrs.  Twining's  breast,  it 
was  this  placid  appearance  of  one  who  so  promptly 
indicated  that  she  stood  toward  Claire  in  a  support 
ing  and  accessory  attitude. 

"  So,  you  '11  make  terms,  will  you  ?  "  said  the  par 
ent  of  Claire.  "  You  '11  browbeat  me  —  me,  your 
mother  —  with  your  fine  clothes  and  fine  house  and 
fine  servants  ?  And  where  's  my  satisfaction,  if  you 
please,  Miss?  Hey?  Oh,  I  ain't  any  saint  —  you 
know  that,  by  this  time.  I  ain't  going  to  forget  how 
I  laid  eight  mouths  in  Bellevue  Hospital,  crippled 
and  nearly  dying.  First  it  was  the  typhoid  fever,  'n 
then  it  was  the  pneumonia,  'n  then  it  was  the  inflam 
matory  rheumatism.  And  where  was  you,  all  that 
time?  Spending  your  thousands  as  fast  as  the  Wall 
Street  stock-gambler  you  'd  married  could  scrape  'em 
together.  Who's  this  friend  that  steps  in  and  looks 
as  if  she  was  going  to  protect  you  ?  Hey  ?  You  're 
both  afraid  I  '11  go  in  among  those  grand  folks  you  've 
got  eating  and  drinking  somewheres,  and  speak  my 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  401 

mind.  You'll  send  me  up  to  a  com f table  room,  will 
you  ?  You  '11  give  orders  to  your  servants  about 
me,  will  you?  And  s'pose  I  object  to  being  treated 
like  a  troublesome  tenth  or  'leventh  cousin  ?  S'pose 
I  go  straight  into  where  they  all  are,  and  just  tell 
'em  the  square,  plain  truth  ?  "  The  scowl  on  her 
wasted  face  was  very  black,  now.  She  had  made 
several  quick  steps  nearer  to  Claire  and  Mrs.  Diggs. 
Once  or  twice  during  this  acrid  tirade  she  had  waved 
one  hand  in  front  of  her,  and  made  its  finger  and 
thumb  give  a  contemptuous  audible  click.  But  her 
voice  had  not  noticeably  lowered. 

Claire  had  been  watching  her  with  great  keenness. 
She  had  been  reading  her  mood.  By  the  light  of  the 
past  —  the  retrospective  light  flung  from  weary  yeara 
lived  out  at  this  mother's  side,  did  this  daughter  now 
swiftly  see  and  as  swiftly  understand. 

"  Claire,"  sai'd  Mrs.  Diggs,  spurred  by  an  impulse 
of  heroic  interference  no  less  than  an  alarmed  one, 
"  let  me  speak  a  few  words  ;  let  me  "  — 

"  No,"  interrupted  Claire.  Her  simple  veto  seemed 
to  cut  the  air  of  the  room.  She  turned  and  met  Mrs. 
Diggs's  gaze  for  a  moment,  while  dropping  her  hand. 
"  I  thank  you,  Kate  ;  but  please  leave  all  to  me." 

Then  she  faced  her  mother's  irate  glare.  She  was 
still  decidedly  pale,  but  in  her  clear  voice  there  was 
no  hint  of  tremor. 

"  Very  well,"  she  said,  "  suppose  you  do  go  in  and 
find  my  friends.  Suppose  you  do  tell  them  every 
thing.  I  do  not  merely  invite  you  to  go ;  I  chal 
lenge  you  to  go.  I  will  even  show  you  the  way  my 
self." 

"  Claire  !  "  faltered  Mrs.  Diggs,  below  her  breath. 

Claire  walked  toward  the  curtained  doorway  and 
26 


402  AN  AMBITIOUS 

slightly  parted  its  draperies.  She  was  looking  at  her 
mother  across  one  shoulder. 

"  Will  you  come  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  am  quite 
ready." 

The  enraged  look  began  to  die  from  Mrs.  Twin- 
ing's  face.  She  receded  a  little.  "  I  can  go  myself 
when  I  choose,"  she  muttered.  "  I  can  find  the  way 
myself,  when  I  'in  ready.  I  ain't  ready  yet." 

Claire  let  the  draperies  fall.  She  resumed  her 
former  position.  "  You  will  never  be  ready,"  she 
said,  with  a  melancholy  scorn,  "  and  you  know  it  as 
well  as  I.  You  thought  to  come  here  and  make  me 
cringe  with  terror  before  you,  while  you  threatened 
and  stormed.  But  you  had  no  intention  of  bringing 
matters  to  any  crisis.  You  think  me  very  prosper 
ous,  very  powerful,  and  very  rich.  You  are  secretly 
glad  that  I  am.  You  would  not  on  any  account  harm 
me  as  a  person  of  importance ;  but  you  wanted  to 
keep  me,  as  one,  in  a  state  of  rule,  a  state  of  subjec 
tion.  By  that  means  you  could  climb  up  to  a  place 
something  like  my  own  ...  so  you  have  argued. 
You  would  share  what  I  have  secured.  You  were 
always  a  very  ambitious  woman.  Your  sickness 
(which  Heaven  knows  I  am  sorry  enough  to  hear 
about)  has  n't  changed  you  a  particle.  I  thought  at 
first  that  it  might  have  turned  or  clouded  your  brain 
—  have  made  you  reckless  of  consequences.  But  it 
has  done  nothing  of  the  sort.  You  are  precisely  the 
same  as  ever." 

Here  Claire  paused.  Her  mother  had  sunk  into  a 
chair.  In  her  working  lips  and  the  uneasy  roll  of 
her  eyes  a  great,  abrupt  dismay  was  evident. 

"I  think  I  can  guess  just  what  has  occurred  to 
send  you  here,"  Claire  soon  proceeded.  "You  be- 


Aft  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  403 

dame  sick ;  you  got  into  the  hospital.  While  you 
were  there  a  certain  lady  now  and  then  visited  your 
bedside.  You  told  this  lady  who  you  were.  Per 
haps  she  asked  you  questions,  and  drew  out  all  your 
history  —  perhaps  you  gave  her  all  of  it  voluntarily. 
The  lady  was  an  enemy  of  mine.  She  put  this  and 
that  together.  She  began  by  suspecting ;  she  fin 
ished  by  being  certain.  We  will  say  that  you  de 
scribed  me  to  her  with  great  accuracy  ;  or  we  will 
say  that  she  knew  I  had  once  lived  with  the  Berge- 
mann  family,  and  that  you  easily  recalled  the  fact  of 
Sophia  Bergemann  having  been  my  friend  long  ago 
at  Mrs.  Areulariuafe  school.  It  is  of  no  consequence 
how  tin.'  real  truth  transpired  ;  it  did  transpire.  As 
you  grew  better,  the  lady  formed  a  little  plot.  I 
think  you  perceived  this  ;  it  is  like  you  to  have  per 
ceived  it.  You  saw  that  the  lady  wanted  to  make 
you  her  tool,  her  cat's-paw." 

Here  Mrs.  Twining  rose,  and  put  out  both  hands. 
"She  didn't  do  it,  though,"  was  her  flurried  excla 
mation.  "She  thought  she'd  have  me  come  here 
and  get  up  a  scene.  I  was  'cute  enough  to  see  that. 
I  was  reading  her  just  like  a  book,  all  the  time." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  Claire,  with  the 
same  melancholy  scorn.  "  But  you  chose  this  time 
at  which  to  come.  You  were  willing  to  be  her  ac 
complice  that  far" 

"  She  would  n't  tell  me  where  you  lived  nor  what 
was  your  name,"  protested  Mrs.  Twining.  "  She 
kept  putting  me  off  whenever  I  asked  her.  She  fixed 
things  at  the  hospital  so 's  I  only  left  it  to-day  ;  she 
made  'em  keep  me  there,  though  I  was  well  enough 
to  quit  more  'n  a  week  ago." 

"  She  told  you  to-day,  then,  of  this  entertainment? 


404  AN  AMU IT10 US   WOMAN. 

She  told  you  that  if  you  came  to-day,  at  a  certain 
hour,  you  would  find  me  surrounded  by  friends  ?  " 

Mrs.  Twining  set  her  eyes  on  the  floor.  She  had 
begun  to  tremble  a  little.  "  Well,  yes,  she  said  some 
thing  of  that  sort.  And  I  knew  what  she  was  up  to, 
just  as  clear  as  if  she  'd  told  me  she  had  a  grudge 
against  you  and  was  crazy  to  pay  it.  I  was  going  to 
stay  away  till  the  party  was  all  over  —  but  I  ... 
well,  I  "... 

Here  the  speaker  raised  her  eyes  and  flashed  them 
confusedly  at  her  daughter.  That  glance  was  like  the 
expiring  glow  of  her  conquered,  treacherous  wrath. 

"  Look  here,  Claire,  I  'ra  weak,  and  I  can't  stand 
this  kind  of  thing  much  longer.  Let  me  go  up  to 
that  room  and  lay  down.  I  '11  wait  till  you  come  up. 
We  can  talk  more  when  all  your  big  friends  have 
gone." 

"  I  will  send  a  woman  to  you,"  said  Claire.  "You 
can  give  her  what  orders  you  please."  .  .  . 

"  Do  you  feel  strong  enough  to  go  back  at  once  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Diggs,  when  she  and  Claire  stood,  pres 
ently,  in  the  front  drawing-room. 

"  Oh,  yes,  perfectly,"  was  Claire's  answer. 

Mrs.  Diggs  kissed  her.  "  Claire,"  she  said,  "  the 
more  I  see  of  you,  the  more  you  astonish  me.  I 
thought  everything  was  lost,  and  how  splendidly  you 
turned  the  tables !  Ah,  my  dear,  you  were  born  for 
great  things.  You  ought  to  have  been  on  a  throne. 
I  hate  thrones.  I  'in  a  Red  Republican,  as  I  told 
you  the  first  time  we  met.  But  I  'd  change  my  poli 
tics  in  a  minute  if  you  represented  an  absolute  mon 
archy." 

Claire  smiled.  The  color  was  coming  back  to  her 
cheeks.  "  I  am  on  a  kind  of  throne  now,"  she  said. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  405 

"  Only  it  is  going  to  pieces.  Kate,  you  have  seen 
that  woman.  She  is  my  mother.  I  wish  you  had 
seen  and  known  my  father.  Whatever  strength  there 
is  in  me  comes  from  her.  But  what  little  good  there 
is  in  me  comes  from  Aim." 

They  went  back  into  the  dining-room  immediately 
afterward,  and  Claire  spoke  with  lightness  to  a  few 
of  the  ladies  about  having  felt  a  temporary  indisposi 
tion  which  had  now  entirely  ceased.  She  at  once 
changed  the  subject,  and  throughout  the  remainder 
of  the  repast  betrayed  not  a  sign  by  which  the  most 
alert  watcher  could  have  detected  the  least  mental 
disturbance. 

A  watcher  of  this  sort  was  Mrs.  Lee,  and  both. 
Claire  and  Mrs.  Diggs  were  certain  of  it.  "  She 
has  n't  tasted  a  morsel  for  three  courses,"  soon  whis 
pered  the  latter.  "  Upon  my  word,  I  don't  think  I 
could  be  restrained  from  throwing  a  glass  or  a  plate 
at  her,  if  I  were  sure  it  would  n't  hit  somebody  else. 
I  was  always  a  wretched  shot." 

But  Mrs.  Diggs  delivered  another  kind  of  missile 
after  the  banquet  had  broken  up  and  the  ladies  had 
all  passed  once  again  into  the  drawing-rooms. 

"  I  want  to  speak  with  you,  Sylvia,  if  you  don't 
object,"  she  said  dryly  to  Mrs.  Lee.  The  latter  had 
opportunely  strayed  away  from  her  companions  ;  she 
was  pretending  to  scrutinize  a  certain  painting  in  the 
front  apartment.  This  gave  Mrs.  Diggs  precisely 
her  desired  chance. 

"  You  know  I  've  never  liked  you,  Sylvia,  and  I 
don't  think  you  've  ever  liked  me,"  her  cousin  began. 
She  showed  no  anger ;  her  voice  was  so  ordinary  in 
tone  that  she  might  have  been  discussing  the  most 
commonplace  of  matters. 


406  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Mrs.  Lee  started,  and  twisted  herself,  as  usual, 
into  a  fresh  pose.  "  I  really  don't  see  the  occasion, 
Kate,"  she  murmured,  "for  this  vast  amount  of  can 
dor."  She  had  got  back  her  old  drawl.  She  was 
concerned  with  a  knot  of  roses  at  her  bosom,  which 
had  or  had  not  become  partially  unfastened  ;  her 
gaze  was  drooped  toward  the  roses,  and  thus  avoided 
that  of  her  kinswoman. 

"  You  don't  see  the  occasion  for  candor,  Sylvia  ? 
I  do.  You  know  just  what  you  have  tried  to  do  this 
morning.  There  is  no  use  of  denying." 

"  Tried  to  do  ?  "  she  repeated,  raising  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  sped  Mrs.  Diggs,  with  a  kind  of  snap  in 
every  word.  "  We've  never  liked  each  other,  as  I 
said,  and  I  preluded  my  remarks  with  this  state 
ment  because  I  want  to  show  you  why,  fiom  to-day 
henceforward,  we  are  open  foes.  You  would  have 
had  Claire  Hollister's  mother  rush  like  a  mad  woman 
into  that  dining-room.  You  wanted  it.  You  planned, 
you  plotted  it.  There's  no  use  of  asserting  that  you 
didn't," 

Mrs.  Lee  quietly  threw  back  her  head.  "  Oh,  very 
well,  since  the  poor  woman,"  she  began,  "  has  really 
betrayed  me,  I  "  — 

"  Betrayed  you  ?  "  broke  in  Mrs.  Diggs.  "  She 
has  done  nothing  of  the  sort.  If  you  exacted  any 
promise  from  her,  I  know  nothing  of  that  —  nor  does 
Claire.  We  both  understood  that  you  were  behind 
the  whole  affair,  and  when  Mrs.  Twining  was  taxed 
with  your  complicity  she  did  not  presume  to  disa 
vow  it." 

Mrs.  Lee  looked  at  her  roses  again,  and  touched 
some  of  their  petals  with  a  caressing  hand. 

"If  you  think  me  culpable  to  have  told  a  poor 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  407 

•wretch  in  a  hospital  the  address  of  the  daughter  who 
had  deserted  her,"  she  said,  "  I  am  only  sorry  that 
your  code  of  morals  should  so  materially  differ  from 
mine." 

"  Morals?"  replied  Mrs.  Diggs,  with  a  quick  laugh 
that  seemed  to  crackle.  "  It 's  amusing,  truly,  to 
hear  such  a  word  as  that  from  you  to  me,  Sylvia  !  " 

Mrs.  Lee  again  lifted  her  eyes.  She  was  smiling, 
and  her  small,  dark  head,  garnished  with  a  tiny  crim 
son  bonnet,  was  set  very  much  sideways.  "  My  dear 
Kate,"  she  said,  "  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  how  enor 
mously  vulgar  you  can  be  at  a  pinch  ?  " 

"  I  'd  answer  that  question  if  I  did  n't  see  through 
the  trick  of  it.  We  're  not  talking  of  manners,  if 
you  please  ;  we  're  talking  of  morals.  Do  you  con 
sider  that  there  is  anything  moral  in  a  mean,  under 
hand  re\renge  ?  That  is  exactly  what  you  resorted 
to.  To  serve  a  spiteful  hatred,  you  would  have  had 
Mrs.  Twining  dart  like  a  Fury  into  yonder  dining- 
room." 

"  If  it  were  not  unladylike,  I  should  tell  you  that 
you  are  uttering  a  falsehood." 

"  Bah  !  You  can  tell  me  so  a  thousand  times,  if 
you  want.  Why  did  you  never  let  Claire's  mother 
know  her  marriage-name  or  her  address  until  to-day? 
Why  did  you  keep  her  in  the  hospital  until  to-day? 
Why,  unless  you  wanted  to  unloose  her,  like  a  raging 
lioness  ?  " 

"  Really,  Kate,  you  have  passed  the  bounds  of  im 
pertinence.  You  are  now  simply  diverting."  « 

Mrs.  Diggs  laughed  a  second  time.  "  I  intend  to 
divert  you  still  further,  Sylvia,  before  I  have  done 
with  you." 

Mrs.  Lee  took  a  step  or  two  in  an  oblique  direc- 


408  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

tion.  The  lids  of  her  dark  eyes  had  begun  to  move 
rapidly.  "  I  have  the  option  of  declining  to  be 
bored,"  she  answered,  in  a  muffled  voice,  "  unless 
you  intend  personal  violence.  In  that  case,  you 
know,  there  are  always  the  footmen." 

"  Answer  me  one  question,  please,  if  you  have  a 
spark  of  honesty  left.  What  right  had  you  to  believe 
that  Claire  Hollister  ever  wronged  her  mother  ?  " 

"  You  have  n't  yet  become  violent.  You  are  still 
diverting.  So  I  will  answer.  She  left  her  alone  in 
poverty,  neglect,  and  misery." 

"  She  ieft  her  after  a  life  of  tyranny  and  pei'secu- 
tion.  She  left  her  a  strong,  hale,  able  woman.  She 
left  her  with  ten,  twenty  times  as  much  money  in 
her  pocket  as  Claire  herself  had  —  for  Claire  had 
scarcely  anything,  and  this  persecuted  heroine  of  a 
mother  had  enough  money  to  give  her  dead  husband 
decent  Christian  burial,  yet  refused  it.  Did  she  tell 
you  that,  Sylvia,  when  you  found  her  sick  in  the  hos 
pital  ?  Did  she  tell  you  how  her  daughter  cried  out 
in  grief,  beside  the  very  body  of  a  dead  and  beloved 
father,  that  if  only  he  were  not  laid  in  Potter's  Field 
—  if  only  he  might  receive  holy  rites  of  interment, 
she  would  work,  even  slave,  for  her  mother's  sup 
port  ?  Did  she  tell  you  —  this  model  and  deeply 
wronged  parent  —  that  her  child  got  from  her  noth 
ing  but  a  surly  refusal?  Did  she  tell  you  that  Claire 
then,  and  only  then,  resolved  to  leave  her  forever  ? 
Did  she  tell  you  how  Claire,  faithful  till  the  last, 
fol^pwed  her  father,  on  foot  or  by  street-car,  to  his 
pauper  grave,  and  saw  the  clods  heaped  over  him  as 
if  he  had  been  a  dead  dog,  while  she,  his  lawful  wife, 
stayed  shamelessly  at  home  ?  No,  Sylvia ;  I  will 
warrant  that  she  made  another  plausible  story,  nearly 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

all  false,  with  just  a  grain  of  truth.  And  you  readily 
accepted  it,  because  it  suited  your  malicious  ends  to 
do  so ! " 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Lee  had  produced  an  exquisite 
fan  of  dark  satin,  painted  with  charming  figures  of 
birds  and  flowers.  While  she  used  the  fan,  slowly 
and  gracefully,  she  answered :  "  And  is  it  possible 
that  you  credit  this  theatrical  improbability,  Kate  ?  " 

Mrs.  Diggs  looked  stern.  "  I  don't  merely  believe 
it  —  I  know  it,"  she  said.  "  I  have  seen  the  woman. 
To  see  her  —  to  hear  her  speak,  was  enough.  You, 
too,  have  had  both  experiences." 

Mrs.  Lee  still  slowly  fanned  herself.  "  That  is 
quite  true.  I  have.  The  charity-burial  story  is  the 
purest  nonsense,  the  most  preposterous  invention,  on 
your  dear  friend's  part.  That  is  my  confident  belief ; 
I  assure  you  it  is.  Do  you  want  me  any  more,  Kate  ? 
Or  are  you  going  to  keep  me  here  with  your  wild 
tales  an  hour  or  two  longer  ?  " 

Mrs.  Diggs  never  in  her  life,  with  all  her  personal 
deficiencies,  looked  so  simply  and  calmly  dignified  as 
when  she  responded :  — 

"  I  shall  keep  you  only  a  very  little  while  longer, 
Sylvia.  You  may  or  may  not  have  wanted  Claire's 
mother  to  enter  that  dining-room.  But  you  had  your 
hour  for  her  coming  neatly  timed,  and  any  mortifica 
tion,  any  distress  that  you  could  have  inflicted  would 
have  been  a  pleasure  to  you.  But  I  think  that  in 
all  this  wily  and  clever  performance  you  quite  failed 
to  remember  me.  I'm  very  staunch,  very  loyal  to 
Claire.  And  I  give  you  my  word  that  your  share  in 
the  event  of  to-day  shall  not  go  unpunished." 

Mrs.  Lee  stopped  fanning  herself.  "  Unpunished  ?  " 
she  repeated,  haughtily  enough. 


410  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

"  Oh,  yes.  Are  you  surprised  at  the  word  ?  Let 
me  explain  it.  I  merely  mean  that  in  as  short  a 
time  as  I  can  possibly  command  Stuart  Goldwin  shall 
know  every  detail  of  your  recent  behavior.  And 
pray  don't  have  the  least  fear  that  he  will  disbelieve 
me.  He,  knows  how  devoted  Jam  to  Claire  Hollis- 
ter.  You  know  just  how  devoted  to  her  he  is.  I 
wonder  in  what  kind  of  estimation  he  will  hold  you 
after  I  have  narrated  my  little  story,  not  missing  a 
single  particular  .  .  .  not  one,  Sylvia  —  rest  certain 
of  that !  •' 

Mrs.  Lee  began  to  fan  herself  again,  and  at  the 
same  time  moved  away.  Mrs.  Diggs's  eyes  followed 
the  slim,  retreating  figure.  She  had  already  seen 
that  her  cousin's  face  wore  an  expression  of  pained 
affright.  Claire's  guests  had  begun  to  make  their 
farewells.  Mrs.  Lee  did  not  join  them  in  this  civility. 
She  slipped  from  the  drawing-room,  instead,  unno 
ticed  by  any  one,  except  her  late  antagonist,  and  per 
haps  Claire  herself. 

'  She  will  try  to  meet  Goldwin  before  I  do,'  thought 
Mrs.  Diggs.  '  But  she  will  not  succeed.  I,  too,  will 
leave  without  saying  good-by  to  Claire,  who  might 
not  approve  my  scheme  of  chastisement  if  she  learned 
it.  But  it  is  no  affair  of  hers.  I  am  doing  it  entirely 
on  my  own  account.  I  propose  to  make  Sylvia  Lee 
remember  this  day  as  long  as  she  lives.' 

Among  the  carriages  of  the  departing  guests,  that 
of  Mrs.  Lee  was  the  first  one  to  roll  away.  The  car 
riage  of  Mrs.  Diggs  soon  followed  it.  Both  were 
driven  at  a  rapid  rate,  and  for  a  certain  time  in  the 
same  direction.  But  ultimately  the  courses  of  the 
two  vehicles  diverged. 

Each  lady  sent  a  telegram  to  the  same  destination, 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  411 

less  than  ten  minutes  afterward.  And  each  lad}r, 
after  so  doing,  employed  the  same  formula  of  reflec 
tion  :  '  He  will  come  as  soon  as  he  receives  it.' 

But  Mrs.  Diggs's  summons  was  the  more  potent; 
it  contained  the  name  of  Claire. 


XXII. 

GOLDWIX  was  the  recipient  of  the  two  telegrams. 
He  went  first  (being  driven  rapidly  in  a  cab  from  his 
Wall  Street  place  of  business)  to  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Diggs. 

He  remained  with  her  for  at  least  two  hours.  It 
was  now  somewhat  late  in  the  afternoon.  He  dined 
at  his  club,  and  by  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  was 
ringing  the  bell  of  Mrs.  Lee's  residence. 

She  was  alone,  and  received  him  with  a  freezing 
manner.  "  At  last  you  are  here,"  she  said. 

"  At  last,"  he  replied,  with  careless  ambiguity, 
throwing  himself  into  an  arm-chair,  and  looking 
straight  at  a  very  comfortable  wood-fire  that  blazed 
not  far  off. 

"  Did  you  receive  my  telegram  ?  " 

"  I  did." 

"  In  time  to  come  to  me  when  it  entreated  you  to 
come  ?  " 

"  I  received  it  this  afternoon.  I  have  been  pre 
vented  from  making  my  appearance  until  now." 

His  voice  was  quite  as  cold  and  distant  as  her  own. 
She  went  up  to  his  chair  and  laid  her  hand  upon  its 
arm. 

"  Your  manner  is  very  abrupt  and  strange,"  she 
said,  in  greatly  softened  tones.  "Has  anything 
occurred  ?  " 

He  turned  and  met  her  look.     He  nodded  signifi- 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  413 

cantly  once  or  twice  before  answering.  "  Yes,  some 
thing  lias  occurred,  most  decidedly.  Can't  you  guess 
what  it  is  ?  If  so,  you  will  save  me  the  distress  of 
explaining." 

For  several  moments  she  was  silent.  "  I  suppose 
you  mean  that  you  have  seen  Kate  Diggs,"  she  then 
hazarded. 

He  nodded  again.     "  I  have,"  he  replied. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mrs.  Lee,  with  an  airy  satire.  "  Then 
she  must  have  made  a  very  strong  case  against  me,  as 
the  lawyers  phrase  it." 

"  Undoubtedly  she  has,"  he  answered,  rising.  "  I 
have  heard  the  prosecution ;  do  you  want  me  to  hear 
the  defense  ?  " 

"Of  course  I  demand  that  you  shall  do  so,"  she 
exclaimed,  "  although  I  don't  at  all  like  the  word  you 
describe  it  by  !  I  have  no  need  whatever  of  defend 
ing  myself." 

Goldwin  gave  one  of  his  rich,  mellow  laughs.  The 
twinkle  had  come  back  to  his  eye ;  all  his  wonted 
geniality  seemed  to  reclothe  him.  And  yet  his  com 
panion  rather  felt  than  saw  that  it  was  worn  as  an 
ironical  disguise. 

"  Upon  my  word,  I  think  you  have  been  very 
hardly  treated,"  he  declared.  The  sting  of  the  real 
sarcasm  pierced  her,  then,  and  she  sensibly  recoiled. 
"  You  ought  to  have  been  allowed  the  privilege  of 
witnessing  your  little  scandalous  comedy,  after  you 
had  planned  it  so  cleverly.  How  you  must  have  suf 
fered  when  it  all  went  off  in  so  tame  and  quiet  a 
way ! " 

Mrs.  Lee,  pale  and  with  kindling  eyes,  slightly 
stamped  one  small  foot.  The  sound  wrought  by 
this  action  was  faint,  though  quite  audible. 


414  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

"  You  believe  all  that  Kate  Diggs  has  told  you !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  You  think  I  wanted  a  public  scene. 
It  is  not  true.  I  wanted  her  to  be  humiliated  by 
her  own  conscience  at  a  time  when  she  thought  her 
self  most  enviable,  most  lofty.  I  had  no  other  mo 
tive.  It  was  not  revenge.  It  never  was  anything 
like  revenge." 

Goldwin's  face  had  sobered,  but  he  made  a  little 
shrug  of  the  shoulders,  which  was  like  him  at  his 
brisk,  mercurial  best.  He  had  plainly  seen  her 
falsehood.  "Why  on  earth  do  you  use  the  word  ?  " 
he  asked. 

She  recoiled  once  more.  "  Use  the  word  ?  "  she 
half  stammered,  as  if  thrown  off  her  guard  by  this 
unexpected  thrust.  A  moment  afterward  she  went 
on,  with  renewed  vehemence,  all  her  native  drawl 
flurriedly  quickened  by  excitement.  "  I  used  it  be 
cause  Kate  Diggs  used  it — because  she  presumed  to 
say  that  I  brought  that  poor,  suffering,  deserted,  out 
raged  mother  face  to  face  with  her  daughter  for  this 
reason.  I  don't  doubt  that  Kate  has  invented  the 
same  nonsense  for  you  that  she  tried  to  foist  upon 
me.  She  is  very  loyal  to  her  friend.  She  has  most 
probably  told  you  that  Mrs.  Twining  was  always  a 
monster  to  her  daughter,  and  that  she  insisted  on 
having  her  dead  husband  buried  by  charity,  in  spite 
of  prayers,  supplications,  adjurations  from  the  be 
reaved  offspring.  For  my  own  part,  I  choose  utterly 
to  discredit  this  trumped-up  tale.  I  never  heard 
anything  that  resembled  it  from  the  feeble  lips  of  the 
wretched  woman  who  had  lain  for  weeks  in  the  hos 
pital.  I  only  heard  "  — 

Goldwin  here  broke  in  with  a  voice  more  hard  and 
stern  than  any  which  Mrs.  Lee  had  known  to  leave 
his  lips. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  415 

"  If  you  will  pardon  me  for  saying  so,  I  do  not 
wish  to  continue  your  listener.  If  you  think  my  in 
terruption  outrageously  rude,  then  let  me  admit  with 
frankness  that  I  can  not  —  yes,  literally  can  not  — 
endure  what  you  now  choose  to  state." 

She  gave  her  small,  dark  head  a  passionate  toss. 
"  You  can't  endure  it,"  she  cried,  "  because  you  think 
that  woman  perfection  !  You  can  hear  nothing  that 
is  not  in  her  praise.  You  used  to  tell  me  that  you 
thought  Kate  Diggs  ridiculous ;  you  used  to  laugh  at 
her  as  a  wild,  eccentric  creature.  And  now  you  are 
willing  to  credit  her  fictions." 

"They  are  not  fictions,"  said  Goldwin.  "All  she 
told  me  to-day  was  pure  truth.  Don't  try  any  longer 
to  shake  my  credence  of  it.  Your  efforts  will  not 
avail,  I  assure  you." 

Mrs.  Lee  shivered.  She  put  both  hands  up  to  her 
face,  pressing  them  there  for  a  moment,  and  then 
suddenly  removed  them.  She  set  her  dark  eyes  on 
Goldwin's  face ;  they  were  glittering  moistly. 

"  You  think  I  edged  that  woman  on,  to  serve  pur 
poses  of  revenge,"  she  faltered.  "  Well,  Stuart,  if  I 
did  so,  what  was  my  real  reason  ?  " 

Goldwin  was  drawing  something  from  an  inner 
side-pocket  of  his  evening-coat.  "  Truly,"  he  said, 
in  dry,  tepid  tones,  "  I  have  no  idea."  lie  fidgeted 
with  the  required  something  while  he  thus  spoke. 
The  next  moment  he  had  produced  it.  It  was  a  slim 
packet  of  letters. 

"  I  want  to  give  you  these,"  he  said,  with  a  brief, 
formal  bow. 

He  handed  her  the  packet.  She  examined  it  for 
several  minutes. 

*'  My  letters,"  she  murmured. 


416  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

"  Yonr  letters,"  he  answered,  with  a  slight  repeti 
tion  of  his  recent  bow. 

She  thrust  the  packet  into  her  bosom.  "You  .  .  . 
you  have  kept  all  these  ?  "  she  questioned,  after  hid 
ing  them. 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"  And  you  give  them  back  to  me  now,"  she  pur 
sued,  "with  a  meaning?  Well,  with  what  mean- 
ing?" 

Goldwin  walked  quietly  toward  the  doorway  that 
led  into  the  adjacent  hall.  "  Oh,  if  you  want  the 
meaning  put  brutally,"  he  said,  using  a  tone  and  de 
meanor  of  much  suavity,  "  I  ...  I  —  well,  I  am 
tired." 

"  Tired  ?  "  she  repeated.  Her  next  sentence  was  a 
sort  of  gasp.  "  You  —  you  hate  me  for  what  I  have 
done!" 

"  I  did  not  say  that."  His  foot  was  almost  on  the 
threshold  of  the  door  while  he  spoke. 

"Stuart!"  she  exclaimed,  hurrying  toward  him. 
The  lithe  symmetry  of  her  shape  was  very  beautiful 
now ;  her  worst  detractor  could  not  have  said  other 
wise.  She  felt  that  the  man  whom  she  loved  was 
leaving  her  forever.  She  put  a  hand  on  either  of  his 
shoulders.  She  tried  to  look  into  his  eyes  while  he 
averted  his  own. 

"Will  you  leave  me  like  this?"  she  went  on. 
"  You  knew  me  long  before  you  knew  her  !  Don't 
let  us  quarrel.  I  —  I  confess  everything.  I  —  I  have 
been  very  foolish.  But  you  won't  be  too  harsh  with 
me  — you  will  forgive,  will  you  not  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer  her.  He  removed  her  hands. 
Then  he  receded  from  her. 

"  Stuart !  "  she  still  appealed. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  417 

"  I  have  given  you  back  your  letters,"  he  re 
sponded,  standing  quite  near  the  threshold. 

"  Tell  me  one  thing  —  do  you  love  her  ?  Is  it  be 
cause  you  love  her  that  you  want  to  part  from  me  ? 
I  —  I  have  scarcely  seen  you  for  weeks.  You  once 
said  that  a  day  wasn't  a  day  unless  you  had  seen  me. 
Do  you  remember  ?  I  've  been  stupid.  But  you  won't 
mind  so  much  when  you  've  let  me  explain  more. 
Don't  go  quite  yet.  Stay  a  moment,  and"  .  .  . 

He  had  passed  quietly  from  her  sight.  She  waited 
until  she  heard  the  clang  of  the  outer  hall  door. 
Then  she  understood  what  a  knell  it  meant.  The 
alienation  must  now  be  life- long.  She  had  made 
him  despise  her,  and  she  could  never  win  him  back. 
Seated  before  the  fire,  that  snapped  and  flashed  as  if 
in  jeering  glee  at  her  own  misery,  she  wept  tears  that 
had  a  real  pathos  in  them  —  the  pathos  of  a  repulsed 
love.  She  had  never  believed  herself  at  fault  in  her 
conduct  toward  Claire.  Jealousy  had  speedily  black 
ened  the  filial  act  of  her  rival,  but  in  any  case  the 
story,  as  Mrs.  Twining  told  it,  would  have  roused 
her  conviction  that  this  desertion  had  been  a  most 
unnatural  and  cruel  one.  So  esteeming  it,  she  had 
played  the  part  of  castigator.  She  was  not  sure  that 
she  would  have  done  very  differently  if  Claire  had 
not  been  at  all  an  object  of  her  hatred.  She  had  not 
found  the  least  difficulty  in  persuading  herself  that 
it  was  wholly  a  moral  deed  to  use  with  vengeful  in 
tent  knowledge  which  she  would  have  been  justified 
in  using  with  an  intent  merely  punitory. 

But  now  she  had  wrecked  all  her  own  future  by 
seeking  to  destroy  Claire's.  Mrs.  Twining  had 
broken  faith  and  betrayed  her.  The  passion  which 
she  felt  for  Gold  win  was  an  irrecoverable  one.  Her 

27 


418  AN  A MEITIO US  WOMAN. 

detestation  of  the  woman  who  had  caused  their  cease 
less  parting  grew  as  she  wept  over  the  ruin  of  her 
hopes,  and  mingled  its  ferocious  heat  with  the  more 
human  tenderness  of  her  tears.  She  passed  a  lurid 
hour,  there  in  her  little  picturesque  parlor ;  she  was 
in  spiritual  sympathy,  so  to  speak,  with  its  Oriental 
equipments.  She  could  have  understood  some  of 
those  clandestine  assassinations  which  the  poisoned 
draught,  the  stealthy  bow-string,  and  the  ambushed 
scimitar  have  bequeathed  to  history  and  legend. 
Her  past  pietistic  fervors  had  left  her  with  no  me 
mento  of  consolation.  A  stormy  turbulence  had 
taken  hold  of  her  mental  being,  and  shaken  it  as  a 
blast  will  shake  a  bough.  In  her  sorrow  she  was  still 
a  woman  ;  in  her  hate  she  was  something  grossly  be 
low  it. 

She  at  length  remembered  the  letters  that  he  had 
returned  to  her,  and  drew  them  forth  from  her 
bosom.  For  a  moment  the  anguish  of  loss  gained 
mastery  in  her  soul,  and  she  held  the  packet  clasped 
between  both  hands,  her  eyes  blinded  to  any  sight  of 
them,  and  her  frame  convulsed  with  racking,  internal 
sobs.  She  knew  that  she  must  read  them  all  over 
again,  and  thus  replunge  into  coverts  of  memory 
whose  very  charm  and  fragrance  would  deepen  her 
despair.  To  re-peruse  each  letter  would  be  like  pry 
ing  open  the  slab  of  a  grave. 

A  sudden  impulse  assailed  her  as  the  violence  of 
her  grief  subsided.  She  rose,  and  raised  the  letters 
in  one  hand,  meaning  to  hurl  them  into  the  opposite 
blaze,  and  thus  spare  herself,  while  the  destructive 
mood  lasted,  fresh  future  pangs.  But  at  this  mo 
ment  her  glance  lighted  on  the  packet  itself.  It 
was  of  moderate  thickness,  aud  tied  together  by  a 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  419 

strip  of  ordinary  cord.  Inside  the  cincture  so  made, 
and  held  there  insecurely  by  one  sharp  corner,  a 
folded  paper  had  caught,  which  seemed  foreign  to 
the  remaining  contents.  Mrs.  Lee  disengaged  this 
paper,  opened  it,  and  cast  her  tear-blurred  eyes,  care 
lessly  enough  at  first,  over  some  written  lines  which 
she  had  immediate  certainty  were  not  her  own. 

But  presently  a  little  cry  left  her  lips.  She  turned 
the  page  with  a  rapid  jerk,  searching  for  a  signature. 
She  did  not  find  any,  but  found  merely  two  initials 
instead.  She  dropped  into  her  seat  again,  and  with 
a  fire  in  her  dark  eyes  that  seemed  to  have  quickly 
dried  their  last  trace  of  moisture,  she  read,  pausing 
over  nearly  every  word,  and  pondering  every  sen 
tence,  a  letter  which  ran  thus :  — 

Friday. 

DEAR  MK.  GOLDWIN,  —  I  think  that  I  meant  all 
the  harsh  treatment  I  gave  you  last  evening.  When 
I  recall  what  my  feelings  then  were,  I  am  certain 
that  my  indignation  was  quite  sincere.  But  very 
much  has  happened  since  then  to  change  me,  and 
to  change  my  surroundings  as  well.  I  suppose  I  am 
in  a  most  reckless  mood  while  I  write  these  lines : 
my  head  is  hot,  and  my  hands  are  cold,  and  tremble 
so  that  the  words  I  am  shaping  have  a  strange,  un 
familiar  look,  as  though  I  myself  were  not  writing 
them  at  all.  Well,  for  that  matter,  the  same  woman 
whom  you  lately  parted  from  is  not  writing  them. 
Another  woman  has  taken  her  place.  She  is  a  way 
ward,  desperate  sort  of  creature ;  she  is  a  coward,  an 
ingrate,  a  worthless  and  feeble  egotist. 

But  this  ne\v  identity  of  mine  will  last.  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  t )  take  a  bold  step,  and  nothing 
can  now  deter  me.  I  shall  not  be  explicit ;  at  some 


420  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

other  time  I  will  send  for  you  and  tell  you  every 
thing.  You  shall  hear  my  reasons  for  acting  as  I 
propose  to  act.  I  don't  claim  that  they  are  strong  or 
good  reasons,  and  yet  I  feel  that  they  contain  a  cer 
tain  propulsion  —  they  push  me  on.  My  marriage 
has  been  an- irreparable  mistake;  I  can't  go  back 
and  live  the  last  year  over  again ;  I  can't  repossess 
my  yesterdays.  Hence,  I  have  become  willful  and 
headstrong  about  my  to-morrows.  If  I  had  ever 
really  loved  Herbert,  all  would  now  be  so  differ 
ent  !  But  I  have  never  loved  anybody  who  is  now 
living.  There  you  have  a  frigid  confession.  You 
never  roused  in  me  anything  but  a  decided  liking; 
that  other  woman  —  the  woman  who  called  herself 
by  my  name  a  few  hours  ago  —  used  to  disapprove  a 
good  deal  that  there  is  about  you.  But  my  new  self 
will  doubtless  pass  over  these  faults  very  indulgently  ; 
she  will  have  enough  of  her  own  to  account  for. 
Still,  she  can  never  do  more  than  think  you  good 
company.  I  fancy  that  when  I  was  a  very  young 
child  nature  locked  up  a  certain  cell  of  my  heart, 
and  then  threw  away  the  key  where  no  one  can  ever 
find  it. 

I  mean  to  go  abroad,  very  secretly,  after  the  sale 
of  certain  property  and  chattels  shall  have  put  me 
in  possession  of  the  needed  funds.  It  will  be  a  flight 
—  and  a  flight  from  more  than  you  are  yet  aware  of. 
If  we  meet  abroad  —  say  in  Paris  —  I  may  even 
stoop  to  discuss  with  you  that  question  of  a  divorce. 
It  is  horrible  for  me  to  write  these  words.  It  is  sin, 
and  I  feel  the  stab  of  it.  But  surely  Herbert  de 
serves  to  be  rid  of  me,  and  perhaps  he  will  come  in 
time  to  value  his  freedom.  I  should  want  him  to 
have  the  rigl'.t  of  marrying  again.  Would  not  that 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  421 

be  a  possible  arrangement  ?  I  know  almost  nothing 
of  the  law  on  these  points. 

It  does  not  now  seem  conceivable  that  I  should 
ever  become  your  wife  after  I  had  ceased  to  be  his. 
I  have  had  enough  of  marriage  without  love.  But 
if  you  should  prevail  with  me,  it  would  be  only  be 
cause  of  your  great  wealth,  and  the  ease  and  distinc 
tion  that  are  now  slipping  away  from  me.  You  see 
I  am  hideously  candid ;  I  don't  mince  matters  .  .  . 
where  would  be  the  use  ? 

Do  not  answer  this,  but  destroy  it  immediately. 
In  regard  to  the  last  request,  I  count  with  perfect 
confidence  upon  your  honor.  Were  it  not  that  I  did 
so,  I  should  never  send  you  this  imprudent,  daring, 
perilous  scrawl. 

Do  not  come  to  me  until  I  send  for  you.  I  cannot 
tell  how  long  that  will  be.  C.  H. 

Before  Mrs.  Lee  refolded  the  letter  which  con 
tained  these  words,  she  had  read  them  through  cer 
tainly  five  successive  times. 

Not  until  then  had  she  made  up  her  mind  just 
what  to  do.  She  would  put  the  letter  in  an  envelope, 
and  direct  this,  very  legibly,  to  Herbert  Hollister. 
Her  determination  was  as  fixed  as  fate.  .  .  . 

When  her  guests  had  all  departed,  on  the  after 
noon  of  this  same  day,  Claire  slowly  walked  the  spa 
cious  drawing-rooms  for  at  least  twenty  minutes, 
witli  her  eyes  bent  upon  the  floor. 

She  felt  literally  hunted  down.  The  end  had 
come ;  the  clock  had  struck  twelve,  and  her  fineries 
were  rags,  her  coach -and -four  was  a  pumpkin  and 
mice.  She  had  carried  it  off  well  until  the  very 
last ;  she  was  sure  of  this,  and  the  surety  gave  her, 


422  AN"  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

even  now,  a  bitter  pleasure.  She  had  no  doubt  that 
the  coming  of  her  mother,  with  imperative  demands 
of  support  and  countenance,  would  mean  a  return  of 
all  the  old  taunts  and  gibes.  If  Claire's  wealthful 
life  of  to-day  had  been  destined  to  continue,  this 
prospect  would  have  opened  a  less  dreary  vista ;  as 
it  was,  she  foresaw  only  a  dropping  back  into  the 
former  ruts  and  sloughs  of  maternal  acrimony  and 
intolerance.  The  history  of  her  past  would  in  a 
manner  repeat  itself.  There  would  be  poverty  again, 
or  something  closely  akin  to  it ;  there  would  be  the 
mother's  unpardoning  disapprobation  of  her  child's 
ill-favored  lot.  For  one  marked  difference,  Herbert 
would  be  present,  as  a  fresh,  assertive  force.  And 
what  a  miserably  adverse  force  it  must  prove !  To 
exist  with  him  would  be  hard  enough,  now,  under 
any  circumstances.  But  if  he  felt  perpetually  the 
shadow  and  weight  of  this  second  gloomy  and  heavy 
personality,  what  new  hostile  traits  might  not  his  de 
pression,  his  impatience,  his  revolt  develop  ? 

Claire  tried  to  take  a  very  calm  survey  of  the 
whole  potential  consequence.  In  so  doing  she  re 
garded  the  advent  of  her  mother  as  one  factor  that 
consorted  with  other  untoward  agencies  ;  the  central 
knot  of  the  tangle  would  be  wrought  of  several  tough 
and  stubborn  threads.  There  could  be  no  unravel 
ing  it.  '  But  the  knot  could  be  cut,'  she  thought, 
silently  continuing  her  metaphor,  as  she  paced  the 
stately  rooms. 

It  sent  a  thrill  of  actual  terror  to  her  when  she 
reflected  liow  the  knot  could  be  cut.  To  the  feet 
that  have  set  their  tread  on  slippery  ways,  evil  can 
do  much  downward  work  by  a  gentle  push.  Claire 
felt  herself  lapsing,  now.  .  .  . 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  423 

What  if  she  wrote  to  Stuart  Gold  win  a  letter  very 
different  from  the  one  she  had  already  written  him, 
and  which  was  then  hid  under  the  fleecy  laces  that 
clad  her  bosom  ?  What  if  she  told  him  that  she 
must  fly  from  it  all  ?  —  the  love  that  she  had  out 
raged  by  cold  hypocrisy,  the  keen  if  mute  reproaches 
that  would  be  punishment  and  torture  alike,  the 
thrusts  and  innuendoes  from  a  tongue  whose  venom 

O 

had  poisoned  her  childhood,  the  tarnish  in  place  of 
splendor,  the  dullness  in  place  of  brilliance,  the  ob 
scurity  in  place  of  prominence,  the  service  in  place  of 
mastery  —  perhaps  even  the  toil  in  place  of  ease  ? 

She  tried,  in  a  pitiable  way,  to  rebuff  temptation 
by  taking  the  sole  means  at  hand  of  ending  these 
desperate  reflections.  In  reality  she  took  the  most 
cogent  means  of  rendering  temptation  more  potent. 
She  tightened  its  black  clutch  on  her  soul ;  she  went 
upstairs  and  talked  with  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Twining  had  been  securely  convalescent  some 
time  ago.  She  had  passed  through  a  complicated 
and  dangerous  illness  ;  she  had  given  Death  odds, 
yet  won  with  him.  She  was  still  subject  to  those  at 
tacks  of  fatigue  which  are  inevitable  with  one  who 
has  proved  victor  in  so  grim  a  wrestle.  But  she  had 
once  more  gained  a  very  firm  foothold  on  that  solid 
ity  which  bounds  one  known  side,  at  least,  of  the 
valley  of  the  shadow.  She  intended,  in  a  physical 
sense,  to  live  a  good  many  years  longer ;  her  freshen 
ing  vitality  was  like  that  of  a  fire  in  a  forest,  which 
has  stretched  an  arm  of  flame  across  a  bare  space, 
at  the  risk  of  not  reaching  it,  but  in  the  end  has 
caught  a  mighty  supply  of  woodland  fuel. 

Claire  found  her  stretched  quite  luxuriously  on  a 
lounge,  with  a  little  table  beside  her,  which  held  the 


424  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

remains  of  a  hearty  repast.  She  had  the  traditional 
vast  appetite  of  the  recovering  invalid.  She  had  de 
voured  enough  to  have  sunk  a  hearty  person  of  av 
erage  digestion  into  abysses  of  dyspepsia.  She  had 
enjoyed  her  meal  very  much.  It  had  appeared  to 
her  as  an  earnest  of  many  similar  joys. 

She  promptly  began  a  series  of  her  old  character 
istic  sarcasms  and  slurs  as  soon  as  Claire  appeared. 
Mingled  with  them  was  an  atmosphere  of  odious  con 
gratulation  —  a  sort  of  verbal  patting  on  the  back 
—  which  her  daughter  found  even  more  baneful  than 
her  half-latent  sneers.  She  was  thoroughly  refreshed  ; 
her  food  (mixed  with  some  admirable  claret)  had 
gone  straight  to  the  making  of  bodily  repairs.  She 
had  never  had  anything  so  fine  and  wholesome  in  the 
hospital,  though  after  the  patronage  of  Mrs.  Lee  she 
had  been  supplied  with  not  a  few  agreeable  dainties. 
The  temporary  result  was  that  she  had  become  in  a 
great  measure  her  real  self. 

Claire  said  very  little.  She  did  a  large  amount  of 
listening.  She  had  never  known  her  mother  not  to 
be  without  a  grudge  of  some  sort.  It  brought  back 
the  past  with  a  piercing  vividness,  now,  while  she 
eat  and  heard.  The  vision  of  a  pale,  refined  face, 
lit  by  soft,  dark-blue  eyes,  rose  before  her,  and  the 
memory  of  many  a  wanton  assault,  many  a  surrep 
titious  wound,  appealed  to  her  as  well.  Her  father 
had  stood  it  all  so  bravely —  he  had  been  such  a  gen 
tleman  through  it  all !  She  had  stood  it  only  with 
a  sturdy,  rebellious  disapproval  through  many  of  the 
years  that  preceded  his  death. 

She  stood  it,  now,  with  a  weary  tranquillity.  When 
she  went  away  from  her  mother,  these  were  her  part 
ing  words :  — 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  425 

"  I  do  not  think  I  shall  tell  my  husband,  for  some 
few  days,  that  you  are  here.  There  are  reasons  why 
I  should  not.  He  has  some  very  engrossing  matters 
to  occupy  him.  But  you  will  be  perfectly  comforta 
ble  in  the  meanwhile.  Order  what  you  please.  The 
servants  will  obey  you  in  every  particular.  If  you 
should  need  me,  I  will  come  immediately.  You  have 
only  to  send  me  word.  I  shall  be  at  home  for  the 
rest  of  to-day,  and  all  through  the  evening." 

Claire  went  into  her  own  private  sitting-room,  after 
that.  When  she  had  been  there  a  little  while,  she 
had  torn  up  her  first  letter  to  Goldwin.  When  she 
had  been  there  a  little  while  longer,  she  had  written 
the  second  letter.  Having  finished  the  last,  she 
promptly  dispatched  it,  by  messenger,  to  Goldwin's 
private  address. 

Between  the  hours  of  ten  and  eleven  that  same 
evening,  the  following  note  from  Goldwin  was 
brought  to  Claire  :  — 

Friday  Night. 

In  some  unaccountable  way  I  have  lost  the  letter 
which  you  sent  me  to-day.  I  feel  in  honor  bound  to 
tell  you  of  this  loss,  after  a  protracted  search  through 
my  apartments  and  numerous  inquiries  and  directions 
at  my  club.  I  cannot  sufficiently  blame  myself  for 
not  having  at  once  burned  it  to  a  crisp.  But  I  thrust 
it  into  my  pocket  after  many  readings,  with  the  wish 
to  learn  each  word  by  heart  before  it  was  finally  de 
stroyed.  Do  not  feel  needlessly  worried.  I  shall  do 
my  best  to  recover  it,  and  even  if  it  should  be  read 
by  other  eyes  than  yours  and  mine,  the  fact  of  your 
mere  initials  being  signed  to  it  is  an  immense  safe 
guard.  S.  G. 


426  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

Claire  had  grown  deathly  pale  as  she  finished  the 
perusal  of  this  note.  She  had  prepared  herself  for 
a  night  of  wretched  unrest,  but  here  was  a  dagger  to 
murder  sleep  with  even  surer  poignance. 

It  was  past  midnight  when  she  heard  Hollister  go 
to  his  apartments.  She  fancied  that  his  step  was  a 
little  unsteady.  If  this  was  true,  no  vinous  exhila 
ration  made  it  so.  An  excitement  of  most  opposite 
cause  would  have  explained  the  altered  tread. 

A  saving  hand  had  interposed  between  himself 
and  ruin.  The  chance  had  been  given  him  of  start 
ing  again  —  of  meeting  all  the  fiercest  of  his  cred 
itors,  and  appeasing  them.  Instead  of  titter  wreck, 
he  had  chiefly  to  think  of  retrenchment.  Perhaps 
what  Claire  believed  unsteadiness  in  his  step  was  a 
brief  pause  near  her  own  door.  But  even  if  an  im 
pulse  to  tell  her  the  good  news  may  for  a  moment 
have  risen  uppermost,  there  must  have  swept  over 
him,  promptly  and  sternly,  the  recollection  of  a  dark 
and  sundering  discovery. 

Meanwhile  Claire,  wondering  if  the  lost  letter  had, 
through  any  baleful  chance,  drifted  into  his  hands, 
lay  pierced  by  that  affrighted  remorse  which  a  moni 
tion  of  detected  guilt  will  bring  the  most  hardened 
criminal,  and  which  of  necessity  strikes  with  acuter 
fang  the  soul  of  one  yet  a  neophyte  in  sin. 


XXIII. 

HOLLISTER  passed  downstairs  the  next  morning 
at  a  little  after  nine  o'clock.  He  had  obtained  some 
sleep,  of  which  he  stood  in  sad  need.  The  cheerful 
elasticity  of  his  temperament  would  have  placed  him, 
by  natural  rebound,  well  in  the  sunlight  of  awakened 
hope  and  invigorated  energy,  and  after  hours  of  mis 
erable  disquiet  he  would  now  have  felt  relieved  and 
peaceful,  but  for  one  leaden  and  insuperable  fact. 
Tliis  had  no  relation  whatever  with  financial  turmoils 
and  embarrassments ;  it  concerned  Claire,  and  the 
desolate  difference  with  which  her  image  now  rose 
before  his  spirit. 

He  had  told  her  that  they  must  henceforth  be  as 
strangers,  but  already  the  deeps  of  his  unselfish  love 
were  stirred  by  a  longing,  no  less  illogical  than  pas 
sionate,  to  make  reality  of  what  had  once  been  illu 
sion,  and  to  verify  Claire's  indifference  through  some 
unknown  spell  of  transformation  into  that  warmth 
whicn  had  thus  far  proved  only  lifeless  counterfeit. 
Already  Hollister  found  within  him  a  spacious  ca 
pacity  of  pardon  toward  his  wife.  Already  he  had 
begun  to  exonerate,  to  make  allowances ;  and  more 
than  all,  he  had  already  told  himself  that  to  live  on 
without  her  love  would  be  a  hundredfold  better  than 
to  part  with  her  companionship.  Here  cropped  out 
the  old  vein  of  complaisance  and  conciliation  which 


428  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

had  run  through  his  earlier  collegiate  life,  and  which 
later  experiences  amid  all  sorts  of  risk  and  rivalry 
had  never  wholly  obscured.  It  had  been  his  power  to 
concede,  his  amiable  pliancy,  wed  with  a  peculiar  in 
tellectual  shrewdness,  that  had  gone  far  toward  the 
accomplishment  of  his  phenomenal  successes.  The 
man  who  makes  the  best  of  things  by  instinct  is  very 
apt  to  have  the  best  of  things  made  for  him  by  fortune. 

His  inalienable  love  for  Claire  caused  him  to  re 
gard  her  long  hypocrisy  with  fondly  lenient  eyes. 
The  wrong  done  himself  rapidly  took  a  secondary 
place ;  it  was  nearly  always  thus  with  Hollister, 
except  in  those  grosser  cases  of  wanton  injury  from 
his  own  sex  ;  and  now,  when  it  became  a  matter  be 
tween  his  heart  and  the  woman  that  heart  devotedly 
loved,  he  was  ready  to  forego  a  most  liberal  share  of 
the  usual  human  egotism. 

He  had  a  hard  day  before  him.  Exertion,  diplo 
macy,  astuteness,  concentration,  all  were  needed.  He 
was  still  to  fall,  but  no  longer  with  a  headlong  plunge. 
He  would  now  fall  on  his  feet,  as  it  were,  but  it 
required  a  certain  agile  flexibility  to  make  the  de 
scent  a  graceful  one.  At  any  other  time  he  would 
promptly  have  left  the  house  after  breakfasting.  As 
it  was,  he  waited  for  Claire.  She  appeared  sooner 
than  he  had  expected  her.  She  had  drank  her  coffee 
upstairs.  He  saw  her  figure,  clad  in  a  morning  robe 
of  pale -tinted  cachemire,  enter  the  front  drawing- 
room.  He  had  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  was  standing 
beside  the  hearth,  where  a  riotous  fire  flung  merry 
crimson  challenge  to  the  sharp  weather  outside.  He 
at  once  threw  away  his  cigarette,  and  went  forward 
to  meet  her. 

She  perceived  him  when  he  had  gained  the  centre 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  429 

of  the  second  drawing-room.  She  stood  perfectly 
still,  awaiting  his  approach.  There  was  more  than  a 
chill  misgiving  at  her  heart  lest  some  inimical  hand 
had  sent  him  her  own  fatal  letter.  She  did  not 
know  how  she  would  act  in  case  he  immediately  ac 
cused  her.  Hours  of  sleepless  unrest  had  not  sup 
plied  her  with  a  single  defensive  plea. 

The  new  serenity  on  Hollister's  face  struck  her  at 
a  glance.  It  gave  her  a  sudden  relief  ;  it  was  like  a 
reprieve  just  before  execution.  When  he  said  "good 
morning"  she  answered  him  with  the  same  words. 
She  wondered  if  he  had  already  noticed  her  pallor,  or 
that  a  dark  line  lay  under  either  eye.  Her  dressing- 
mirror  had  told  her  of  these  changes.  .  .  .  Might  he 
not  guess  at  sight  the  guilty  agony  that  she  had  been 
enduring  ? 

Her  altered  looks  were  not  lost  upon  him.  They 
were  a  new  intercession  in  her  behalf.  "  I  have  good 
news  for  you,"  he  said,  almost  tenderly.  He  went 
toward  the  richly-draped  mantel  just  opposite  where 
she  stood,  and  leaned  one  arm  along  its  edge.  He 
purposely  let  his  eye  wander  a  little,  so  that  she 
would  suspect  in  him  no  intentness  of  scrutiny. 

"  Good  news  ?  "  she  repeated,  softly. 

"  Yes.  I  thought  it  was  all  up  with  me,  yesterday. 
But  a  friend  of  yours  has  placed  funds  at  my  dis 
posal  which  will  enable  me,  with  wise  management, 
to  weather  the  worst  of  the  storm.  He  dropped  into 
my  office  at  a  very  critical  moment.  He  used  the 
nicest  delicacy  and  tact.  Befoi-e  I  actually  realized 
that  he  was  offering  me  very  substantial  aid,  he  had 
done  so.  And  yet,  with  all  his  graceful  method,  he 
did  n't  beat  about  the  bush.  He  was  frankly  straight 
forward.  He  said  just  why  he  wished  to  see  my  af- 


430  AN  AMBITIOUS  WOMAN. 

fairs  righted  —  or  at  least  creditably  mended.  That 
reason  was  his  deep  respect  and  sincere  admiration 
for  you.  He  told  me,  with  a  winning  mixture  of 
humor  and  seriousness,  that  you  represented  for  him 
the  one  great  repentance  of  his  bachelorhood.  And 
when  I  looked  at  his  world- worn  sort  of  face  and  his 
decidedly  gray  locks,  and  began  to  wonder  whether 
he  meant  his  amazing  proposition  in  any  unpleasant 
sense,  he  assured  me  that  he  had  always  seen  in  you 
the  daughter  whom  he  had  possibly  missed  being  the 
father  of.  ...  Of  course  you  now  recognize  his  por 
trait  ;  or  have  I  not  drawn  it  clearly  enough  ?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  Beverley  Thurston  ?"  asked  Claire. 

"Yes.  You  see,  now,  how  generous  an  act  of 
friendship  he  performed." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  Claire  murmured. 

"  The  funds  he  proffered  —  and  which  I  accepted 
—  are  by  no  means  all  his  own.  His  influence  is  so 
great,  his  standing  is  so  secure,  that  he  has  actually 
been  able  to  associate  four  well-known  capitalists 
(one  of  whom,  by  the  way,  chanced  to  be  my  per 
sonal  friend)  in  carrying  out  this  wonderfully  benev 
olent  work."  Here  Hoi  lister  paused  for  a  considera 
ble  space.  "Of  course,"  he  at  length  went  on,  "I 
shall  not  do  more  than  just  escape  a  positive  dead 
lock.  The  next  few  years  must  be  full  of  cautious 
living  and  thinking.  I  have  accepted  the  burden  of 
a  huge  debt ;  but  I  believe  firmly  in  my  power  to 
pay  it  off.  And  I  have  learned  a  lesson  that  I  shall 
always  profit  by.  They  shall  never  call  me  a  Wall 
Street  king  again.  I  have  seen  my  last  of  big  ven 
tures.  I  shall  want,  if  I  can  manage  hereafter  when 
every  penny  of  liabilities  shall  be  settled,  to  drift 
slowly  but  safely  into  a  steady  banking  channel. 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  431 

I  shall  have  friends  enough  left  on  the  Street ;  I 
shan't  have  lost  caste ;  I  shall  still  hold  my  own. 
At  least  twenty  good  men  have  gone  clean  down  in 
this  flurry,  without  a  chance  of  ever  picking  them 
selves  up  again.  But  I  am  going  to  pick  myself  up 
—  that  is,  thanks  to  the  helping  hand  of  your  pre 
cious  elderly  friend ;  for  I  could  never  have  done  it 
alone." 

Claire  knew  not  what  to  answer.  She  was  think 
ing  of  the  sweet,  deceitful  kindliness  that  Thurston 
had  employed.  She  was  thinking  how  little  she  de 
served  his  timely  and  inestimable  support.  She  was 
asking  herself  whether  he  would  not  have  shrunk  in 
sorrowful  contempt  from  all  such  splendid  almsgiv 
ing  if  he  had  known  the  real  truth  concerning  her 
recent  mad  and  sinister  act. 

While  she  was  trying  to  shape  some  sort  of  ade 
quate  reply,  the  entrance  of  a  servant  rendered  this 
unnecessary.  The  man  handed  Hollister  a  letter, 
bowed,  and  departed. 

Claire's  heart  instantly  began  to  beat  hard  and 
fast.  A  mist  obscured  her  gaze  while  she  watched 
Hollister  tear  open  the  envelope  and  unfold  its  con 
tents.  There  was  a  sofa  quite  near  ;  she  sank  into 
it ;  she  felt  dizzy  enough  to  close  her  eyes.  But  she 
did  not.  She  looked  straight  at  her  husband,  and  saw 
him  begin  a  perusal  of  the  unfolded  sheet.  Was  it 
her  letter  to  Gold  win  ?  Why  should  she  even  fancy 
this?  Were  there  not  hundreds  of  other  sources 
whence  a  letter  might  come  to  Herbert  ? 

In  a  very  little  while  she  saw  her  husband  grow 
exceedingly  pale.  He  left  off  reading  ;  he  looked  at 
her,  and  said  :  "  Did  you  write  this  ?  "  He  held  the 
paper  out  toward  her  as  he  spoke. 


432  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

Claire  rose,  crossed  the  room,  and  cast  her  eyes 
over  the  extended  page. 

"  Yes,  it  is  mine,"  she  answered  him. 

The  voice  did  not  seem  his  own  in  which  he  pres 
ently  said :  "  I  must  read  it.  I  must  read  it  with 
my  full  attention.  If  I  leave  you  for  a  little  while, 
will  you  remain  here  until  I  return  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said. 

"  You  promise  this?  " 

"  I  promise  —  yes." 

Without  another  word  to  her,  he  walked  back  into 
the  dining-room.  Perhaps  twenty  good  minutes 
passed  before  he  returned.  Claire  had  meanwhile 
nerved  herself  to  meet  something  terrible.  She  had 
no  idea  what  her  husband's  wrath  would  be  like,  but 
she  felt  that  there  might  almost  be  death  in  it. 

Hollister  had  hardly  begun  to  address  her  before 
she  perceived  that  he  did  not  reveal  a  single  trace  of 
wrath.  His  eyes  were  much  brighter  than  usual ;  he 
had  not  a  vestige  of  color ;  his  voice  was  low  and  of 
an  increased  unfamiliarity,  but  it  did  not  contain  the 
slightest  sign  of  indignation. 

She  had  seated  herself  on  the  sofa  again,  and  he 
now  came  very  close  to  her,  standing  while  he  spoke. 
He  held  the  letter  in  his  hand,  which  trembled  a 
little. 

"  You  wrote  this  to  Goldwin,  and  it  has  been  lost 
by  him.  Some  one  else  has  found  it,  and  sent  it  to 
me.  The  handwriting  on  the  envelope  is  not  his." 

Claire  looked  at  him  in  blank  amazement.  It  did 
not  seem  to  her  that  he  could  possibly  be  the  man 
whom  she  had  thus  far  known  as  Herbert  Hollister. 
He  appeared  radically  and  utterly  changed.  She 
could  not  understand  just  where  the  change  lay,  or 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  433 

in  what  it  consisted.  She  was  too  bewildered  to  ana 
lyze  it  or  in  any  way  draw  conclusions  from  it.  She 
was  simply  pierced  with  a  pungent  sense  of  its  ex 
istence. 

"  He  lost  it,"  she  said.  "  He  wrote  me  that  he 
had  lost  it.  You  are  right  in  thinking  that  some  one 
else  has  sent  it  to  you." 

She  wondered  what  he  would  now  say.  She  forgot 
even  to  feel  shame  in  his  presence.  She  was  asking 
herself  what  had  so  completely  altered  him.  Why 
was  he  neither  angry  nor  reproachful  ?  The  very 
expression  of  his  features  looked  strangely  unusual. 
It  was  almost  as  if  the  spirit  of  some  new  man  had 
entered  into  his  body. 

"  Whoever  has  sent  this,"  he  soon  said,  "  is  your 
enemy,  and  wishes  you  great  harm.  But  thank  God 
I  have  it !  "  He  crushed  the  paper  in  his  hand,  im 
mediately  afterward,  and  thrust  it  within  his  pocket. 
Claire  rose  from  the  sofa.  Her  hands  hung  at  either 
side,  in  a  helpless  way.  Her  eyes  were  still  fastened 
upon  his  face. 

"  Are  you  acting  a  part  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  sort 
of  weary  desperation.  "I  realize  that  I  have  done 
a  horrible  thing.  But  tell  me  at  once  what  course 
you  mean  to  take.  If  I  am  to  leave  your  house,  and 
never  to  be  noticed  by  you  again,  order  me  to  go,  and 
I  will  go.  The  letter  shows  you  that  I  care  nothing 
for  that  man.  I  don't  make  excuses ;  I  have  none  to 
make.  But  I  am  not  an  adulteress  even  in  thought. 
Remember  what  I  say.  My  sin,  dark  as  it  is,  has  not 
that  one  hideous  element.  I  wanted  to  desert  you  — 
to  go  abroad  —  you  read  the  whole  story  in  the  letter. 
You  have  only  to  speak  the  word,  and  you  shall  have 
looked  on  me  for  the  last  time.  ...  It  is  your  silence 
28 


434  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

that  tortures  me.  .  .  .  Why  are  you  silent  ?  Here  I 
stand  before  you,  without  a  shadow  of  right  to  defend 
myself,  and  yet  you  force  from  me  a  certain  kind  of 
miserable  defense,  because  you  will  not  either  rebuke 
or  denounce  me." 

He  had  been  looking  at  her  very  steadily.  lie 
now  caught  one  of  her  hands  in  both  his  own. 

"Claire,"  he  said,  "I  have  only  one  wish  —  one 
thought :  to  save  you." 

"  Save  me  ?  "  she  repeated. 

He  went  on  speaking  with  great  speed.  His  eyes 
were  fixed  on  her  own,  and  they  were  filled  with  a 
light  that  was  rich  and  sweet.  She  had  never  known 
him  to  be  like  this  before;  he  was  just  as  tender 
as  of  old,  but  beneath  his  tenderness  there  was  a 
strength,  a  decision,  a  virile  assertion,,  that  gave  him 
a  new,  startling  personality. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  to  save  you.  There  is  no  great 
mischief  done,  as  it  is.  I  think  some  woman  sent 
me  your  letter.  It  is  just  what  some  envious  or 
spiteful  woman  would  do.  But  I  have  it,  and  can 
destroy  it.  You  ask  me  what  course  I  mean  to  take. 
You  ask  me  whether  I  shall  bid  you  to  leave  my 
house.  My  only  answer,  Claire,  is  this  :  if  you  have 
no  love  for  me,  then  I  have  a  very  great  love  for  you. 
I  think  you  knew  this  long  ago.  I  am  your  friend, 
poor  child  — not  only  your  husband,  but  your  friend. 
You  shan't  go  wrong  while  I  have  the  brain  and  the 
nerve  to  stand  between  you  and  folly.  Other  men 
might  take  another  course.  I  don't  care.  You  are 
pure,  still ;  I  am  certain  of  it,  and  you  shall  remain 
pure.  You  are  my  wife ;  I  will  protect  you  ;  it  'a 
my  duty  to  protect  you.  You  have  never  loved  me  ; 
you  married  me  without  a  spark  of  love.  But  I  gave 


4 ./V  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  435 

you  as  large  a  love  as  man  ever  gave  to  woman. 
It's  in  my  heart  still.  It  can  never  die.  If  it  were 
not  so  large  and  so  true  it  would  not  seek  to  guard 
and  shield  you  now.  But  it  does  —  it  must  .  .  . 
Claire,  Claire,  you  have  been  terribly  foolish  !  A 
little  more,  and  I  could  have  done  nothing  to  save 
you.  A  little  mure,  and  I  must  have  cast  you  off. 
But  as  it  is,  I  can  and  will  plant  myself  between 
you  and  disgrace  !•" 

He  had  been  holding  her  hand  all  through  the  ut 
terance  of  these  words.  But  now  he  released  it,  and 
slightly  withdrew  from  her. 

She  advanced  toward  him.  There  was  a  look  of 
absolute  awe  on  her  face.  She  recognized  how  much 
her  own  blindness  had  been  hiding  from  her.  His 
very  stature  seemed  to  have  risen.  His  tolerance 
appealed  to  her  with  sublimity.  It  flashed  through 
her  mind  :  '  What  other  man  would  have  acted  as  he 
has  done  ? ' 

In  a  few  brief  moments  she  knew  him  as  the  noble 
and  high  being  he  really  was.  The  tears  besieged 
her  eyes.  The  enormity  of  the  wrong  she  had  done 
him.  horrified  her.  She  stood  quivering  in  his  pres 
ence.  The  impulse  assailed  her  literally  to  kneel 
before  him.  She  grasped  his  arm  ;  her  dry,  tearless 
eyes  searched  his  pale  face  with  a  madness  of  con 
trition  in  their  look. 

"  Herbert,"  she  faltered  ..."  Herbert,  I  —  I 
never  knew  till  now  that  you  could  be  so  grand  and 
strong !  What  kept  me  from  loving  you  was  your 
own  love  for  me.  It  seemed  to  make  you  weak  ;  it 
seemed  to  put  you  below  me.  You  were  always 
yielding  to  me  —  always  paying  me  reverence.  But 
I  should  have  bowed  before  you.  You  were  worthy 


436  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

of  it,  and  I  did  not  see  ...  I  never  saw  till  now  ! 
.  .  .  Herbert,  I  love  you  /  .  .  .  Oh,  these  are  not 
idle  words  !  They  spring  straight  from  my  soul ! 
If  you  want  the  repentance  of  my  future  life,  it  is 
yours !  Why  did  you  not  show  me  your  real  self  till 
so  late  ?  What  shall  I  do  to  prove  my  love  ?  You 
must  not  pardon  me  so  easily  —  no,  I  cannot  endure 
that !  It  makes  me  sick  with  shame  to  be  treated 
so  !  Such  a  mercy  would  be  cruelty.  You  must 
punish  me,  somehow  —  I  must  undergo  some  pen 
ance,  the  harder  the  better.  You  have  no  right  to 
trust  me  again  until  I  have  passed  through  some  sort 
of  cleansing  fire  —  suffered,  been  mortified,  humili 
ated,  taught  a  stern  and  fearful  lesson  !  You  gave 
me  everything ;  there  was  nothing  in  the  world  I 
did  not  owe  to  you  ;  you  lifted  me  from  dependence 
into  the  most  brilliant  prosperity.  And  I  —  Good 
Heavens  !  I  was  a  viper  of  ingratitude !  I  might 
call  it  madness  ;  I  might  say  that  the  lust  for  riches 
and  power  made  me  conceive  this  treacherous  and 
contemptible  idea  of  deserting  you  —  made  me  de 
cide  that  we  could  not  live  together  when  the  wealth 
had  gone.  But  it  was  no  madness  —  there  was  too 
clear  a  method  in  it  for  that.  It  was  merely  base 
and  mean  —  it  can  have  no  palliative.  .  .  .  Herbert, 
don't  look  at  me  with  any  love,  any  pity  in  your  face. 
I  can't  bear  it  —  I  —  I  want  to  creep  away  some 
where  and  die.  I  am  not  fit  to  have  you  touch  me 
—  No,  no  !  you  must  not !  "  .  .  . 

She  had  receded  from  him  ;  she  meant  to  quit  the 
room,  though  her  limbs  felt  weak  and  her  head 
giddy,  and  she  was  not  sure  whether  she  could  reach 
the  doorway  without  falling.  But  on  a  sudden  his 
arms  clasped  her.  How  strong  they  seemed !  She 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  437 

had  never  till  now  had  so  keen  a  sense  of  even  his 
bodily  strength.  When  his  lips  touched  her  own 
she  burst  into  tears.  She  was  still  struggling  to  free 
herself,  but  he  held  her  too  firmly;  she  could  not 
escape. 

"  Claire,"  she  heard  him  say,  with  a  tenderness  of 
tone  more  exquisite  than  any  he  had  yet  used,  '*  I 
could  n't  help  forgiving  you,  dear,  no  matter  how 
hard  I  might  try.  Oh,  darling,  let  us  begin  all  over 
again  !  You  say  that  you  do  love  me  at  last !  Well, 
I  believe  you  !  /  want  to  believe  you,  and  I  will ! 
How  could  I  ever  punish  you  ?  You  have  n't  been  so 
greatly  to  blame  —  don't  torment  yourself  by  think 
ing  you  have.  People  were  flattering  and  courting 
you  ;  they  made  you  a  perfect  queen ;  they  turned 
your  head.  Now  all  that  is  over.  I  think  there  is 
a  great  happiness  in  store  for  us  both,  my  love  —  a 
happiness  that  the  money  never  brought  us  while  it 
lasted.  Perhaps,  after  all,  it  is  better  that  I  should 
find  you  weak.  It  makes  you  more  human  in  my 
sight.  I  shan't  bow  down  before  you  any  more,  as 
you  say  that  I  did  ;  I  shall  only  love  you  .  .  .  love 
you  forever  — love  you  till  death,  and  beyond  it,  too, 
I  hope !  " 

He  was  kissing  her  cheek  as  he  uttered  these  final 
words  ;  but  it  had  already  seemed  to  take  a  certain 
chill,  and  in  another  moment  he  was  forced  to  bear 
up  her  form,  for  it  had  no  power  whatever  of  self- 
support.  She  had  fainted  in  his  arms.  .  .  . 

She  found  him  close  beside  her  when  she  regained 
consciousness.  She  lay  upon  the  lounge  in  her  own 
dressing-room  upstairs.  lie  was  bathing  her  fore 
head  with  cologne,  and  holding  to  her  nostrils  a 
handkerchief  drenched  \vi.li  it.  He  had  begun  to 


-433  ,LY  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

be  alarmed  at  her  continued  swoon.  The  first  thing 
that  her  eyes  reopened  upon  was  his  smile  of  glad 
relief. 

The  light  of  that  smile  stayed  with  Claire  through 
years.  It  bathed  her  life  in  perpetual  sunshine. 

Everything  altered  in  a  few  more  weeks.  Tln-y 
left  the  great  house  and  went  to  live  in  the  smaller 
one,  which  Claire  personally  owned,  and  which  IIol- 
lister  would  not  let  her  give  back  to  him,  though  she 
pleaded  with  him  more  than  once  on  this  subject. 

"  No,"  he  would  always  say.  "  It  is  yours,  and 
that  moans  it  is  mine  as  well.  I  meant,  when  the 
crash  first  came,  that  you  should  keep  it,  and  I  was 
glad  that  the  law  made  it  yours.  If  I  let  you  give 
it  back  to  me,  this  would  look  as  if  I  had  lost  faith 
in  you.  And  I  have  lost  no  faith  ;  I  have  gained  a 
new  faith  —  that  is  all." 

'  To  think  that  I  should  ever  have  known  this  man 
and  not  have  loved  him  ! '  she  would  say  to  herself 
again  and  again. 

Every  successive  day  brought  with  it  a  dear  sur 
prise.  She  felt  toward  her  husband  as  though  his 
nature  were  a  region  through  which  she  had  jour 
neyed  heedlessly  but  was  no\v  revisiting  with  sharp 
ened  vision,  vitalized  intelligence.  Traits  and  qual 
ities  that  she  could  not  but  remember  him  to  have 
possessed,  now  assumed  a  beauty,  a  harmony,  a  pro 
portion,  an  allurement  that  she  had  never  before 
dreamed  of  recognizing.  A  fresh  light,  so  to  speak, 
flooded  the  beloved  landscape  of  his  character.  Vale, 
grove,  wayside,  were  all  preciously  different  from  of 
old.  Over  them  sang  awakened  birds,  and  still  higher 
leaned  a  shining  sky,  fond,  fathomless,  prophetic. 

Very  few  of  their  former  fashionable  acquaintances 


AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN.  439 

showed  the  slightest  sign  of  deserting  them.  Hoi- 
lister  had  been  one  of  the  many  victims  of  the  dire 
panic,  but  it  soon  became  generally  understood  that 
he  was  going  to  make  honorable  settlement  with  his 
creditors  —  that  he  was  on  the  list  of  the  seriously 
wounded,  so  to  speak,  and  not  on  that  of  the  killed. 
In  many  instances  there  was  even  an  increase  of 
civility.  Cards  were  left  at  the  door  of  the  small 
house,  just  as  they  had  been  left  at  the  door  of  the 
more  spacious  one.  Society  made  it  a  matter  of 
amour  propre  not  to  drop  them.  It  had  taken  them 
up ;  it  could  not  afford  to  discountenance  them  for 
the  single  fault  of  a  reduced  income.  The  thorough 
paced  plutocrat  is  always  very  slow  to  admit  his 
claims  founded  on  anything  so  vulgar  as  a  purely 
mercenary  basis ;  and  the  aristocrat,  on  the  other 
hand,  will  very  often  pay  you  a  kind  of  proud  loyalty 
when  he  has  once  openly  ranked  you  as  his  equal. 
Moreover,  both  Claire  and  her  husband  had  an  am 
ple  personal  popularity  to  fall  back  upon.  They  had 
been  graceful  and  charming  young  figures,  felicitously 
harmonizing  with  their  festal  background.  Their  ab 
sence  left  a  sensible  void. 

But  it  was  an  absence,  and  as  such  it  continued. 
Claire's  love  for  the  superficial  glitter  and  pomp  of 
what  she  had  always  inwardly  felt  to  be  sham  and 
falsity  was  no  longer  even  a  dumb  sensation.  It  had 
become  the  merest  memory,  and  by  no  means  a  pleas 
ant  one.  She  had  changed  for  the  last  time  in  her 
life.  The  change  was  securely  permanent,  now.  If 
she  looked  into  the  future  and  asked  herself  what 
unfulfilled  desire  lay  there,  it  was  always  to  thrill 
with  the  hope  that  Herbert  might  one  day  be  rid  of 
all  financial  worriment,  and  that  their  home,  already 


440  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

lit  and  warmed  by  a  precious  mutual  love,  might  re 
ceive  the  blessing  of  a  happy  tranquillity  as  well. 

For  a  long  time  this  hope  looked  very  far  from 
being  realized.  She  was  untiringly  devoted  to  his 
interests,  and  would  hold  long  talks  with  him  regard 
ing  the  complicated  and  distracting  nature  of  his  af 
fairs.  Her  apt  mind,  her  ready  and  shrewd  counsel, 
no  longer  surprised  him  ;  but  he  recognized  with  an 
untold  joy  the  different  motives  that  now  spurred 
and  animated  her.  In  the  end  light  began  to  break 
from  darkness.  Hollister  still  kept  steady  the  ex 
traordinary  nerve  which  had  before  enabled  him  to 
set  aflame  and  continue  such  astonishing  pyrotechnics 
of  speculation.  It  slowly  and  surely  became  evident 
to  him  that  he  would  soon  have  steered  clear  of  all 
disastrous  reefs,  and  bring  forth  from  the  final  dying 
rage  of  the  big  tempest  a  ship  not  so  wholly  shat 
tered  that  careful  repairs  and  cautious  sailing  here 
after  might  not  keep  it  very  seaworthy  for  many 
years. 

Claire  had  meanwhile  exulted  in  her  economies,  and 
conducted  them  with  that  same  easy  tact  and  skill 
which  had  marked  her  past  supervision  of  a  large  and 
splendid  establishment.  She  still  preserved  a  certain 
residuum  of  friends.  There  was  no  ascetic  renuncia 
tion  of  all  worldly  pleasures,  either  on  her  own  or  Hoi- 
lister's  part.  It  amused  her  to  observe  just  whom  she 
retained  as  her  intimates  and  allies.  The  survival  of 
the  fittest,  in  this  respect,  was  something  to  note  and 
value.  It  showed  her  that  the  gay  throng  in  which 
she  had  shone  was  not  all  made  of  worthlessly  flippant 
members.  But  those,  botli  men  and  women,  whom 
she  now  liked  to  have  about  her  had  each  stood  some 


;1JV  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  441 

pleasant  test,  had  each  presented  to  her  some  solid  or 
sterling  trait  of  mind  or  character,  which  gave  them 
a  passport  into  the  gentler,  healthier,  and  wiser  con 
ditions  of  her  new  life. 

Beverley  Thurston  paid  only  rare  visits  to  her  home. 
She  understood  why  he  did  not  come  oftener ;  she 
never  pressed  him  to  come.  She  had  thanked  him 
for  his  great  service,  with  moist  eyes  and  breaking 
voice.  But  she  had  not  told  him  of  the  sweet  ascen 
dancy  that  her  husband  had  gained.  She  had  tried 
to  let  him  see  this  change.  Such  revelation  had  been 
less  difficult  than  spoken  words ;  for  all  words  on  a 
subject  that  had  now  become  so  holy  appeared  to  her 
impious. 

During  many  days  after  imparting  to  her  husband 
the  knowledge  that  he  must  henceforward  receive 
her  mother  into  his  household,  she  had  dreaded  the 
clash  of  their  widely  opposite  natures,  and  foreseen 
trouble  that  would  only  lend  weight  and  severity  to 
that  which  fate  had  already  inflicted.  But  by  de 
grees  she  found  herself  laughing  with  Herbert  at  the 
shadows  of  her  own  fears.  He  treated  Mrs.  Twining 
as  a  kind  of  grim  joke.  With  her  invigorated  health, 
she  was  prepared  to  hold  him  strictly  accountable  for 
his  altered  circumstances.  Her  sarcasms  were  more 
pitiless  than  Claire  had  ever  remembered  them.  She 
took  the  attitude  of  a  person  who  has  been  shut  out 
from  a  banquet  until  the  viands  are  all  demolished, 
and  then  admitted  to  feed  upon  the  unsatisfactory 
debris.  She  had  no  intention  whatever  of  forgiving 
Hollister  his  misfortunes.  In  all  her  career  of  re 
pulsive  deportment  she  had  never  achieved  a  more 
obnoxious  triumph.  And  yet,  by  the  sheer  force  of 


442  AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN. 

good-humored,  gallant,  conciliatory  kindness,  Hollis- 
ter  at  length  succeeded  in  conquering  her.  She  found 
it  simply  impossible  to  annoy  him.  He  insisted  upon 
not  taking  her  seriously.  His  amiability  was  so  im 
penetrable  that  she  finally  receded  before  it,  and  be 
gan  to  profess  toward  him  a  sort  of  gloomy,  reluctant 
liking. 

"  I  see,"  Claire  said  to  him  one  day.  "She  is  my 
punishment.  But  why  should  you  share  it?  " 

"  Nonsense,"  he  answered.  "  I  think  she  is  im 
mense  fun."  It  seemed  to  Claire  that  he  was  quite 
in  earnest  as  he  thus  spoke. 

"  She  really  does  like  you,"  Claire  said.  "  In  all 
my  life,  Herbert,  I  have  never  known  her  to  like  — 
actually  like  —  any  one  till  now." 

"  That  makes  it  all  the  funnier,"  he  returned,  with 
a  slight,  blithe  laugh.  She  knew  he  was  in  earnest, 
then,  and  felt  a  deep  sense  of  comfort. 

Once  Claire  had  spoken  to  him  of  Gold  win.  ...  It 
already  seemed  far  back  in  the  past,  now,  although  it 
was  scarcely  a  year  ago.  Her  words  had  been  very 
few;  her  cheeks  had  burned  while  she  uttered  them. 

"  Herbert,"  she  had  said,  "  I  feel  that  I  must  ask 
you  whether  you  have — have  met" —  And  here 
she  paused.  Then,  while  he  saw  the  pain  and  shame 
on  her  face,  she  went  stammeringly  on :  "  Oh,  you 
know  whom  I  mean  —  I  don't  want  even  to  speak  his 
name  again — but  it  is  best  that  I  knew  on  ...  on 
what  terms  you  are,  and  all  that." 

He  grew  pale  while  he  looked  at  her.  His  voice 
was  very  grave,  but  perfectly  kind. 

"I  see  him  nearly  every  day,  Claire.  That  is  in 
evitable,  you  know.  I  have  spoken  to  him  only  once 


AN  AMBITIOUS   WOMAN.  443 

since  —  that  time.  I  didn't  quite  know  whether  I 
was  strong  enough  to  keep  ray  temper.  But  I  did 
keep  it.  I  told  him  that  I  had  learned  everything. 
And  then  I  told  him,  very  quietly,  that  if  he  ever 
dared  to  address  me  again  I  would  find  an  excuse 
for  cowhiding  him." 

Claire  sprang  up  from  her  seat.  "  Oh,  Herbert ! 
did  you  say  that?  And  did  he  ...  stand  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  stood  it.  I  did  n't  think  he  would,  for  a 
moment  or  two.  It  was  imprudent  of  me,  perhaps  — 
on  your  account,  I  mean.  But  he  walked  away,  with 
out  a  word.  .  .  .  And  now,  Claire,  promise  me  that 
you  will  never,  as  long  as  we  both  live,  refer  to  this 
matter  again." 

She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck.  "  Never  !  " 
she  cried.  "  I  did  n't  want  to  speak  of  it,  as  it  was. 
I  promise  you,  with  all  my  heart !  " 

They  had  been  married  several  years  when  a  child, 
a  boy,  was  born  to  them.  Claire  made  the  most  ador 
ing  of  mothers.  Mrs.  Diggs,  who  was  forever  drop 
ping  in  upon  her  friend,  with  even  more  than  her  for 
mer  intimacy,  said,  once,  while  she  watched  the  baby 
laugh  on  its  mother's  lap,  after  the  bath  that  Claire 
had  lovingly  given  it  with  her  own  hands :  — 

"  Upon  my  word,  it  does  seem  so  odd,  don't  you 
know?  I  can't  just  quite  realize  it,  even  yet,  Claire, 
dear." 

"  Realize  what  ?  "  said  Claire,  looking  up  from  the 
rosy  little  treasure  on  her  lap  with  a  smile  and  two 
touches  of  color,  for  which  the  joy  of  her  own  mother 
hood  was  solely  responsible. 

"  Why,  that  you  are  the  same  being  I  used  to 
know.  It 's  a  perfectly  lovely  change.  You  remem- 


444  AN  AMBITIOUS    WOMAN. 

her  how  I  used  to  dote  on  you  then.  But  I  dote  on 
you  even  more,  now.  Still,  where  have  all  your 
grand  ambitions  flown  to  ?  " 

Claire  looked  serious,  for  a  moment.  Then  she 
gave  a  light,  sweet  laugh.  "  Oh,  I  'm  a  very  ambi 
tious  woman  yet,"  she  said. 


THE  END. 


of  fiction 

PUBLISHED  BY 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY, 

4  PARK  STREET,  BOSTON,  MASS. 

Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich. 

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MAY  0  6  198$ 


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